


Family Portrait

by Xaori



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: All other kinds of dirty stuff, Blackmail, Cute and lovely incestfield, Did I mention it's incest?, F/M, I don't regret anything, Incest, It's incest but it's love, Language, Loss of Virginity, Manipulation, Multi, Oral Sex, Probably Anal sex too, Sibling Incest, Slow Burn, Slow slow slow burn, Vaginal Sex, Voyeurism, What the fuck were we thinking?, incestfield
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-08
Updated: 2019-11-22
Packaged: 2020-01-06 17:52:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 84,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18393392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xaori/pseuds/Xaori
Summary: The accidental revelation of her darkest secret leads her directly into the arms of the devil. A story about love, incest and the dance with the forbidden.





	1. Prologue

**Prologue**

Alright, before the start of this story, let me start off by saying this: I'm in love. This is about feelings, not some sort of mental disorder; I'm not a psychopath. I don't take secret pictures of him in the shower or steal his personal belongings to rub them between my thighs. I don't have an altar of him hidden in my wardrobe and I don't check my phone for a new message from him every two minutes. I haven't made plans for our wedding since I was five and I never thought of doing anything that would destroy his happiness only because it suited mine. I know that what I'm doing, what I'm feeling, is entirely wrong.

But how can someone just stop feeling?

I tried. Maybe I didn't try hard enough, but who can blame me when no other man has ever even wanted to be enough to replace him in my heart? Disappointment after disappointment, I came to the point that I just had to accept who I was.

I was the woman in love with her brother.

I was happy until I was five, living in the illusion of a bright, stable future. To me, it was like an unwritten truth; something no one could deny or keep me from. So, I didn't take it very well when my mother laughed loudly at me after I dared say that, someday, I was going to marry my older brother. That day I understood that siblings shared too much blood to actually become husband and wife someday; no matter how much I enjoyed wearing the same name as Chris.

And so, I stopped thinking about my brother as my only chance to ever get married; stopped pitying all those girls in my class who didn't have a cute older brother to make theirs in the future. It went well for many years. I even remember falling a little in love with one of the boys. I let him peck my lips when we were both eight, not knowing that it would be my first and only kiss until many years later.

Because, just a little later, our parents died, and the pain over it numbed me so much that it isolated me from every feeling other than suffering. Chris was the only one who could understand what I was going through, because, well, he was going through the same. However, my brother, fourteen years old back then, was much stronger than me; he did everything in his power to help me out of that hole I was in. Our grandma took care of us; gave us a home, a bed and kept us fed every day, but she never knew how to comfort us. That's something only Chris and I knew how to give to each other. He was the one who held me when I couldn't sleep at night, haunted by nightmares, and the one who understood how scared I was of our grandpa and his dentures that always ended up lying on the table next to his plate during dinner. And I became the one who believed in him unconditionally, and even when he told me he wanted to be part of the Air Force, I encouraged him to follow his dreams, not knowing how much his absence would hurt me, but I remained strong. As I mentioned before, I would never do anything that would make my brother unhappy, even if I was the one who got hurt along the way.

Chris was sixteen when our grandma passed away, and barely eighteen when our grandpa followed her into the afterlife. He had just started his training, and he came back to stop Social Services from putting me into a foster home. Could I have loved him more for it?

We lived together like brother and sister, but it almost felt like living in marriage. I cooked and kept the house clean, while Chris brought home the money. He was working and training most of the time, but he came home as often as he could. We would watch movies together, go on long walks and chat about our daily struggles. I would tell him how my latest exams went, and he'd tell me about his ass of a supervisor. One Friday night I mentioned I had been followed by some guys after grocery shopping. The next morning, Chris showed me how to use a gun. When I told him I wanted to go to college, he started working extra hours and saved all his money to grant me the chance to have a proper future. He was my man; the only one who ever did something completely selfless for me only because he loved me. However, I wasn't aware of how much that meant to me until, one day, searching for the documentation I needed to send in with my college applications, I found our birth certificates.

Maybe I had seen too many movies and family dramas with mom, but I suddenly felt curious why all those important documents were stored among dust and spider webs instead of an organizer in Dad's old office. I remember clearly how much I shivered when I opened the box, fearing I would find out something I didn't want to know.

Was I afraid of finding out that Chris wasn't really my brother?

Or was I afraid of the confirmation that he was?

The disappointment within me grew as I searched for hours for any proof that would confirm my suspicions, but every single picture, certificate or document I found only made it clearer. Chris and I had the same parents, without a doubt. After my research, I found myself staring into the mirror for hours, hating the face that looked so much like him. The same blue eyes, the same nose, the same weird shape of our ears; we were like bad copies of our father. It looked good on Chris. Myself, I was lucky that Mom's white skin sweetened my dad's hard features on my face, making me look a little more feminine. I had once read an article about how we feel attracted by face shapes that are similar to ours. No wonder I was so impressed by Chris' beauty.

Some days later, Chris came home unexpectedly early. After his supervisor's latest outburst, he had quit his job in a fit of rage that didn't fit the image I had of my brother, but by the time he came home, he already started to regret how it all happened. I suggested he could ask to get his job back, but he said that were no chances they would ever readmit him after what he had said. He was so broken; my poor brother. I cooked his favorite dish for him and opened a bottle of wine. I was barely seventeen.

"Since when do you drink?" He asked.

"I don't," I replied and filled two cups. "But we have to celebrate that you don't have to stand that asshole any longer."

He just smirked and drank. And then he said the most beautiful words ever a man said to me.

"I'm afraid I can't give you what you deserve, Claire."

He wanted to send me to college; wanted me to have a future. Could I love him more?

We slept in the same bed that night, like we had done so many nights before. The bed was huge so there was plenty of space for each of us. It had never been awkward between us, since, officially, we never had the lightest intention of ever getting to see the other in less than our pajamas.

Until that night.

Because that night I understood how deep my love for my brother really went.

I watched him while he slept. Okay, that might be the only thing that makes me look like a psychopath in this story. I watched him, wondering how he would feel against my bare skin, on me and inside of me. He was so beautiful, so strong and so caring and I wanted to touch him; to be touched by him. I had kept my virginity intact, never really feeling the need to be with anyone, and I finally knew why. I had kept myself pure for him. I was tempted to slide my hand into his pajama pants and see what lay beneath, how much of it lay beneath.

Chris had never brought a girl home; had never introduced me to any girlfriend and I wondered if he had ever been with someone or if he had been waiting for someone like me, someone he truly cared about. I didn't want to wake him, but there was nothing bad about touching myself, right? I pressed the inners of my fingers against my spot through the soft green pajama pants, feeling the heat between my thighs, while my other hand reached for my breast. I pushed my fingers into my depth as I watched my brother sleep. I had been playing with myself for some years already, but that night, next to Chris, I reached my first orgasm, and it was the best feeling I'd ever had. Poor thing, I almost woke him with my gasps.

Once I relaxed, I felt ashamed of what I had done. No matter how much I loved him, no matter how much my body longed for his closeness, this wasn't meant to be, so I turned my back to him and prayed for forgiveness, for help. That night I spoke a promise and two wishes silently into the night. I promised I would never give in to my desire for Chris and, in exchange, I wished I would someday find a man as caring as my brother, and wished that Chris would find someone who loved him as much as I did.


	2. The truth lies in the shadows

The way Chris used to speak about Barry Burton had built an image of a young man about Chris' age in her mind. An image of a guy who spent most of his time at the shooting range or in nightclubs with strange women of various beauty and wealth. When Claire had finally met him, he had turned out to be the most loving family man on Earth besides their own dad. She liked Barry. He was funny and caring and his beard was the same color as her hair. He had rubbed over her ponytail, handed her a spanner and asked her if she wanted to have a look at her broken motorbike with him.

"So, you like bikes, huh?" He had asked and ignored that it was only half of the truth. She liked Chris, and Chris liked chicks on motorbikes. However, she did enjoy the wind in her hair when she rode the rumbling machine.

Chris had met Barry in the Air Force, and they have been the best of friends ever since. Loyal Barry had always been on Chris' side when they'd had their fights with the supervisor, with the result that he left the Air Force right after his friend. Chris hadn't found out about it until a week later. Barry and his wife had invited them over for dinner to give them the bad news along with some very good news.

As it seemed, Barry had found a new job in the police station of an industrial town not far from their own home. There were probably only a handful of places in the States that needed a Police Department less than Raccoon City. However, some bright mind had had the brilliant idea to put up a S.W.A.T. team called...

"Stars?" Chris asked over-chewing his mashed potatoes. "Is that a Pride Parade troupe?" Barry put down his beer and laughed out loud.

"Oh, shut the fuck up! It stands for Special Tactics and Rescue Service." He refilled Chris' glass and patted lovingly the head of little Moira, who was giggling happily every time Chris or her father cursed. Claire wondered if she'd ever get to know a vocabulary worth of a young lady. Anyway, she herself couldn't show off any either. "I know it sounds stupid, but it's a good job in a nice place." He and Kathy exchanged warm looks. "We've been thinking about moving there."

Chris lifted his glass and nodded, an encouraging smile lying on his face.

"If you're happy, I'm happy, Burton."

Claire followed the conversation with restrained attention, as she was busy picking the peas from Moira's plate, immediately gaining the unconditional love of the dark-haired vegetable hater.

"The thing is…" Barry gulped down the rest of his beer before he finished the sentence. "I told them about you."

Chris' mouth fell open, Claire turned her head so quickly she felt her neck creak a little. The siblings looked at each other, before they turned their attention back to Barry.

"What did you tell them about me?" The older Redfield leaned over the table in expectation as he saw a smile crawl onto his old friend's face.

"The truth. That I haven't met a better marksman in my whole fucking life." His smile widened; Moira laughed again. "Expect a call from a guy called Wesker."

Claire's face muscles tensed as she slowly assimilated the news. Barry had gotten Chris a new job. Before her brother could manage to articulate a proper Thank you, she had already jumped up and thrown both of her scrawny arms around the bear of a man named Barry, who laughed in surprise and caressed her forearm.

"See, Claire? Chris might eventually send you to college."

She wouldn't tell anyone, but she couldn't have worried less about her studies. Chris was all she cared about. Her brother hadn't been himself since he'd left the Air Force and more than once she had heard how he'd been drinking alone at night. Claire hated him and herself for it. She had considered getting a job herself, in a cafeteria or a bar maybe. She was pretty, and carrying a tray couldn't be that hard to learn. But she knew Chris wouldn't have allowed her to trade a future at a good college for a job in a dirty diner. Her hair was thrown laxly over her shoulders as she got up and looked at Chris with teary eyes.

"You're gonna be a S.T.A.R.S. guy?" A chuckle framed her question and Chris laughed.

"I'll first have to pass an interview and some tests, I assume." His view travelled to Barry, who gave him a nod.

"Yeah, but you'll do great." He laughed. "That Albert Wesker is a weird subject, but he made clear that he only wanted the best for his team. And you are the best, Chris. He'd even heard about you before. You'll be with us, I'm sure."

And he was right.

Chris confirmed right after the first meeting that Albert Wesker was indeed a very peculiar man. But peculiar didn't mean dumb, and so he had let Chris impress him with his skills and stories about his time in the Air Force, choosing him for S.T.A.R.S. Alpha team, just like Barry. Chris was so proud the afternoon he came home with that S.T.A.R.S. uniform on, showing Claire his brand-new Samurai Edge.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" His eyes shone like diamonds under the reflection of the handgun and the redhead thought again that he had to be the most wonderful man on Earth.

Chris stood out for his excellent skills on the training ground and it was a delight for Claire to see him flourish in his new job. His teammates seemed to be nice, normal people and no matter how much Chris complained about Wesker's cold character, Claire knew that her brother respected him and trusted his methods. But the best thing about his job in Raccoon City was Raccoon City itself. The city was only half an hour's car ride from where they lived, which meant that Chris came home every night. For the first time in years it felt like everything was as it was supposed to be and they had almost forgotten how the plot can twist in only the briefest of page turns.

Claire would be the first one to remember.

* * *

**1997**

"You look awesome," Claire exhaled as she saw Chris put on the jacket that complimented his dark suit. They were getting ready for the annual R.P.D. meeting, where the entirity Raccoon City Police Force would celebrate their greatest successes and joke about the worst breakdowns. It would be the meeting where the Chief would explain how well the two S.T.A.R.S. teams, led by Albert Wesker and Enrico Marini, were developing, and where Claire would finally meet the rest of Chris' colleagues.

"Thanks, Claire-bear," he said as his fingers pulled desperately on his bow tie in an attempt to make a decent knot. The redhead chuckled as she saw him struggle with it and reached with her thin fingers for the cloth in order to help him.

"So," she whispered while she tied just the perfect knot. "I know now not to look Wesker directly in the eyes if he ever takes off those sunglasses he wears. What else should I know?"

Chris laughed a little darkly.

"Speyer," he murmured. "He's a fantastic guy; funny, hard-working, nice." He sighed chuckling and pointed at her. "I want you to stay away from him."

Besides the little rivalry between them about who was better at the shooting range, Forest Speyer had become a good friend of Chris', but the way he used, wasted, and wore out every woman he came across was reason enough not to let Claire run into his claws. She giggled to herself; as if ever anyone could impress her that much.

Claire was in a knee-long, green airy dress she had bought for the occasion and which matched perfectly with the long, red hair she had plaited into a loose braid over her shoulder. The shoes were green, too; and so was the purse; everything chosen delicately by a skinny saleswoman who had pointed at her and said  _I know exactly what you're looking for, girl_. And she'd been right. Claire felt like a princess, or a fairy, or just very feminine in that dress and she had loved Chris' disapproving look when he'd first seen it.

"I'm not joking, Claire. This dress? It makes you the perfect target for Speyer."

Claire rolled her eyes as she pushed her brother through the open door and towards the car.

* * *

"Redfield, you asswipe!" A tall, thin man whose long brown hair had been combed back with craft glue or silicone, so much so that it looked made of plastic, was the first one to approach them when they entered the hotel where the event would take place. "You didn't tell us you had a girlfriend." He threw his arm around Chris' shoulder and smirked widely.

His yells caught noisily the bothered attention of a group of people welcoming each other close to the entrance.

"Get lost, Speyer, you're making a fool out of yourself." Chris hissed. So, that was the infamous Forest Speyer. "I told you I was coming with my sister."

And Forest Speyer turned his attention to her.

"Oh." He breathed and stretched out his hand to Claire, a smirk popping onto his face. "Hello."

Before she could properly introduce herself, Chris pushed his colleague away, causing an unknown feeling of satisfaction in his little sister. She sighed, craving him more than ever.

"Don't even think about it."

Speyer lifted his hands defensively.

"I get it, I get it. No sisters." And he turned back to Claire. "Sorry love, your brother doesn't let you taste this." He pointed his finger at himself, waving up and down his body, causing Chris to roll his eyes. "Blame him."

The two friends smirked at each other, one smugly, the other impatiently.

"You know Valentine has come alone?" Forest's voice was low, as if the personal life of that Valentine guy was a well-kept secret.

"Yes," Chris sighed nodding. "I expected that."

"You know who else has come alone?" Speyer smiled darkly. "Wes…"

"Chris! Claire!" The familiar voice of Barry Burton rolled through the hall and made Claire smile widely. The two men hugged, leaving Speyer watching, before Barry laid his arm around Claire. "So, I think the party can start now that you're here." He laughed and pushed them into the main hall, where the rest of the RPD was already drinking and chatting lively. More and more colleagues came to complete the group and Chris proudly introduced Claire to all of them.

Most of them had come with their families; wives, parents, brothers or sisters. Only Speyer had brought what he called his best friend; a very blonde best friend, in a short dress and with big boobs. Samantha was her name, but he called her  _Sexy_. Barry and Kathy had left Moira and Polly with Kathy's sister, so they could enjoy the evening without having to worry about the girls. Claire noticed how everybody in the team appreciated her brother, and she felt happy for him. When she was speaking to Kenneth Sullivan's pretty wife, Chris suddenly grabbed her wrist.

"Excuse me," he winked at the girl and pulled his sister towards him. "Claire, I want you to meet someone."

They stopped in front of a young woman with short, brown hair and big greyish-blue eyes. Her trained body was tucked into a white blouse, black leather pants and high heels and she looked like she could kick someone's ass by only looking at them. "Claire, this is Jill."

The woman stretched her hand out and shook hers.

"Jill Valentine, nice to meet you, Claire." Damn, she was even more beautiful when she smiled. "Chris told me a lot about you."

She could have said the same, but it would have been a lie. Chris had never even mentioned anyone called Jill; she would have remembered. And even so, the Valentine guy that had turned out to be a nice, attractive woman, knew everything about her. "Have you gotten any news from the colleges yet?"

Claire, surprised, shook her head.

"I'm still waiting for a response," she said forcing a smile. "It's a pleasure, Jill."

Different conversations spread among the group; each of them more hectic than the one before. Barry joined Jill, Chris and Claire in their round and told his friends about his latest encounter with their Captain.

"You can't imagine how irritating it is to come out of the restroom and walk straight into Wesker." He shook his head. "I had only washed my hands, but that man looked at me like I had slaughtered someone and hidden his corpse in the toilet tank."

Chris chuckled, "Are you sure it wasn't just his particular way to invite you back inside?"

He made a duck face, and blew a kiss towards his friend as Barry turned and grimaced in disgust.

"Oh man," the older man hissed headshaking. "That's the least arousing thing ever."

Claire laughed. The way they spoke about the Captain made her curious about that frightening man, but she had too much of a good time to really care.

And Chris laughed, "Wesker is the least arousing thing ever."

He shut up when the least arousing thing ever appeared behind him.

It was the first time Claire saw a Captain.

It was the first time she saw someone wear sunglasses inside a building — at night.

And it was the very first time she felt the air freeze around someone's presence.

He was tall; his features sharp and distinctive, with high cheekbones and a long, pointy nose, and, despite Chris' opinion, he was a very good-looking man. Different from all other guests at the party, Wesker wasn't dressed in a fine suit. It was his S.T.A.R.S. uniform he wore and it made him look even more frightening together with the glasses.

"Well, Chris, I'm deeply sorry I don't match your picture of a perfect night companion," he said in a very dark and low voice. Claire watched Captain Wesker grab her brother's shoulder in a tight, strong grip and it seemed like everybody around the table held their breath. Had the music stopped playing or was the sound of her heart pounding in fear drowning it all out? "But, anyway, as far as I remember, I am the one who rates your skills; not the other way around. And maybe I was wrong about you."

Fuck! Chris had messed up. Claire swallowed. Admittedly, her brother had never been really careful about his word choice or whom he offended with it, but that Wesker-guy couldn't seriously be thinking that being a bigmouth was incompatible with being a good S.T.A.R.S. member. She had heard Speyer speaking. If Speyer wasn't dismissed, why would he do that to Chris? Claire took a step forward, willing to speak up, but before she could open her mouth, Wesker turned his head and stared at her. He. Just. Stared.

"Captain Wesker," Chris said after clearing his throat. "This is my sister, Claire."

She stared back at him, watching her frightened face and stiff body in the reflection of his sunglasses, and stretched her hand out.

"Claire Redfield. It's a pleasure to meet you, sir."

Something about that short introduction must have impressed him. The captain's grip around Chris shoulder loosened and he turned to shake her hand, so tight she thought he'd break her fingers.

"Miss Redfield," he whispered in a dark voice. "It's good to know there's still hope for your family name." He used the pause to turn back to Chris. "Since your brother is such a lost cause."

She stared at the man in front of her in disbelief. Just who the hell does he think he is? It had to be incredibly easy to judge people from behind those sunglasses. She swallowed hard and almost bit her tongue before finding the courage and the right words.

"With all the respect, sir, but if you think that there's still hope for me, you entirely have to thank my brother for it, since he raised me since our parents died. And if you don't see what piece of a raw diamond you have in your hands, maybe you should clean those sunglasses of yours." Behind the blond, Chris rose, and so did the fear on his face. Making cutting moves with his hand in front of his throat, he shook his head at Claire, who kept holding Albert Wesker's gaze like a wall.

The man behind the sunglasses held her gaze evenly. Or that's what she supposed he did, because he didn't move a muscle. After a silence that felt like an eternity Wesker did what she least expected. He smiled at her. It was dark and frightening, but it was a smile after all. He turned and put his hand onto Chris' shoulder, this time, in a friendlier pat.

"You should all get into the hall," he commanded in a sinister voice. "Dinner will start soon."

As he walked past them, Claire received all kinds of relieved and impressed glances from the people around. Barry laughed as soon as Wesker was out of reach.

"Little Claire has guts," he said as he smiled at her. "Well done." Jill Valentine put a thumb up as she winked.

When Chris approached her, he gave her an annoyed look, before pulling her into a tight hug.

"Thank you."

* * *

Dinner went by without further interruptions. Claire and Chris sat at a table with the rest of Alpha team and their company. Brad Vickers had come with a cousin of his called Patricia and Joseph Frost had brought his girlfriend Carrie. Their mood was good, but they were careful with their jokes since Captain Wesker shared the same table after all.

She left the hall when a fat man walked up the stage. She heard someone say that it was a guy called Irons, who was going to praise the good work he himself had done in the RPD. Soon, they would be introducing the S.T.A.R.S. teams and Chris hadn't come back from the bathroom yet.

After carefully calling in front of the men's restroom and not getting an answer from her brother, she decided to look for him somewhere else. The reception hall was empty save for some guests who were checking in for the night. She remembered how Jill had told her before how beautiful the terrace was decorated and she walked out to have a look at it herself. The terrace was huge and the bannister harbored a million small fairy lights. It looked truly magical. Waiters were carrying trays with drinks and she accepted one of the cups, carefully sipping from the glass. All she found on the terrace was Forest Speyer flirting heavily with a woman who wasn't  _Sexy_ , but who was equally busty and attractive. Right when she decided to approach him to ask if he had seen Chris, he started sucking the girl's mouth and made her reconsider that decision. She turned towards the gardens instead.

The gardens were full of dark bushes and trees and the air around her was cold. Not a soul was there. Passing by a few trees, rubbing her arms to get rid of the cold, Claire calculated the probability of finding Chris in a sinister place like that. Almost turning around and heading back, she was stopped by a sound in the dark.

Laughter.

"Yes, like that."

Heavy breathing.

"Oh, baby."

Moans.

"Chris."

Her eyes ripped open and she froze. Could it be? Claire felt her heart pound heavily in her chest as she walked towards the nearest corner in the dark and carefully looked around it, staring right at the ass of Jill Valentine in those leather pants and her brother's hand all over it.

They were on a balcony somewhere on the first floor, but she could see everything from where she was standing. Hands all over each other and tongues in the other's mouth, they both made funny sounds of need. Chris ripped Jill's shirt open and leaned down to feast on her breasts.

Tears shot into Claire's eyes.

So that was why he had never brought a girl home.

He fucked them all on some hotel balconies.

She wept a little as Jill dropped to her knees and ripped on Chris' belt.

"Oh, god, yes," he moaned as she jerked his pants down, pressing her face into his groin. His hands tangled in her hair and pushed her into him. That face he was making? It was pure lust.

Claire shivered. With disgust? Out of jealousy?

She swallowed hard and tried to look away from the rhythmic moves of Jill Valentine's face on her brother's dick.

She couldn't.

Chris was so beautiful, there in the moonlight, watching the woman on the floor. Claire leaned her head against the wall and looked up, longing for him, wanting him. Her breasts touched the cold wall, and she felt how hard her nipples had turned.

No, not of disgust; maybe a little bit of jealousy; but the real reason why she shivered, why she stared, was arousal.

She was incredibly turned on.

The tickle between her thighs became stronger with every breath she took. What would Chris do if he knew she was there? Would he let go of Jill and act like nothing had happened, like they had lost their clothes by accident?

Or would he invite her to join them?

Lord.

Claire closed her eyes and licked her lips, as she let her right hand run up to her breast and squeeze it. The other one pushed between her thighs, barely pulling up the short dress.

"Get up," Chris whispered on the balcony. "I want to fuck you." And it felt like he spoke them to her. Claire opened her eyes again, and there were Jill's huge breasts, popping out of the loose shirt and bouncing freely as Chris turned her slender body around to push her against the bannister. She moaned and made a face of pleasure when her body hit the iron bars.

Claire leaned against the wall, ignoring the touch of the cold stone on her skin, and palpated her heat as she watched how Chris kept crashing his hips against Valentine. Again and again. Twisting between jealousy and arousal, she drove two fingers into herself and started moving them. Her palm trembled on her spot as she felt her wetness run down her thigh in a slick, sticky river of lust. Her other hand tugged on her breast, switching from a soft caress to a painful torture from one second to another.

"Chris." Had his name come from Valentine's lips or from her own? She wasn't sure as her own quiet moans went under in the gasps that came from the balcony above. So loud, she didn't even hear the approaching footsteps.

"Miss Redfield." The touch of a second hand on her parts startled her. She wanted to scream, but another hand covered her mouth as a hint of soft breath tickled her neck. "May I help you with this?"

She turned and stared into his face, eyes still covered by the dark sunglasses, and she felt fear rise into her cheeks. One finger of his followed her own into her waiting hole, and it was enough to make her gasp into Wesker's hand. He chuckled darkly as Jill Valentine's voice reached them.

"Fuck me, Chris. Harder."

He turned his head up and breathed against Claire's neck, pushing another finger into her.

"Interesting. Was that what caused you this condition of-" he whispered against her skin. "Excitement?" He uncovered her mouth and led his hand down her neck, slowly hooking his finger into the straps of her dress and bra. Claire sucked in a breath when he pushed them over her shoulder, and further down, leaving her breasts uncovered as the redhead's hand slid down and leaned against the wall to keep herself from collapsing.

"I-" she moaned, ripping her fingers out of herself and placing them onto his. "Please."

Wesker took the chance to push another finger into her.

"Please, what, Claire?" His hand cupped her breast, rolling the soft knob in his palm. "Tell me." He brought his mouth to her skin. "Are you thinking of your brother?"

Caught between fear, shame and arousal, she gasped needily, turning her head far enough towards her assailant that their lips were only an inch away. A soft moan left hers when Wesker thumbed over her clit.

"Oh, Lord."

She wept; he chuckled again.

"Would you like to be in Valentine's place now?" He whispered into her ear as his left hand assaulted her breast, rolling her nipple between two fingers and tugging until it was sore. "She's known to be a slut, you know? She's had half of the RPD already. And she sucks cock like a professional."

On the balcony, Jill screamed as her breasts bopped and bounced against the bannister, while Chris kept pushing her forward. Claire watched them, feeling the heat between her thighs rise up to unbearable limits. She gasped.

"Chris." Her voice came out weak from her dry throat. At least one spot of her body was still dry, with her pussy turned into a hot puddle and the rest of her skin covered in thin, salty sweat. She closed her eyes and pictured Chris touching her, pictured him behind her with his pants around his ankles and grabbing her hips like he was grabbing Valentine's. And she felt the pleasure in it, the passion of the forbidden, and it brought her so close to the edge she nearly fainted in the hands of the S.T.A.R.S. Captain.

"I'm coming, Chris."

Claire opened her eyes again to see Jill buck and arch her back as her brother grabbed her tits and shoulder from behind, still moving inside of her as the brunette screamed her orgasm into the night. And Claire felt her own climax roll through her body, tickling and stinging and burning between her thighs. As if her soul wanted to rip her ribcage open and flee, she started crying as the pleasure thundered through her limbs.

Wesker pulled his hand out of her and left her leaning against the wall, taking out a handkerchief and wiping her juices off his fingers. She just saw it out of the corner of her eye, unable to directly look at him. On the balcony, Chris and Jill were getting dressed again, giggling and kissing.

"I have to get back now, or Claire will worry."

Her eyes snapped up to him. So, he didn't want her to worry. Tears shot into her eyes as she eventually assimilated what had happened.

"You should go back to the hall as well, Miss Redfield," the dark voice behind her said. "Irons' boring speech will soon be over." With an almost delicate move, he pulled the strap of her dress back up over her shoulder, covering her nudity, before he disappeared into the darkness of the gardens.

Behind shattering teeth, Claire gulped down the knot in her throat. She pressed her back against the wall and slid to the ground, embracing her legs and replaying the previous moments in her head.


	3. On the desk

On her nightstand, there was a picture of the Redfield family; their parents, Chris and herself. It was the last picture of their parents, made only a couple weeks before their passing. The first weeks; no, months; after their tragic accident, Claire hadn't been able to look at the photograph without bursting into tears. Once the sharp pain had faded, though, it had always given her hope. Her parents, especially her mother, seemed to guide her from the afterlife, or wherever they were. Sometimes, when she didn't want to bother Chris or when he was away, Claire looked at the picture and felt stronger. Thanks to the warm glance of her mother, she had known that she was strong enough to withstand the temptation to touch Chris and Claire had known that her mother would be proud of her.

But her mother wasn't proud of her now; she was angry and serious and she was giving her the most hateful judging glance from behind the glass. As if she had seen all the bare skin and heard the screams and moans in the gardens, she looked at her daughter displeased and disappointed. Had she a voice, she'd surely have called her a whore; a whore who'd let a stranger touch her.

After her encounter with her brother's captain in the gardens, the party had continued pretty normally, even though Wesker's presence at their same table had put her at unease. Chris and Jill had played the friendly coworkers for the rest of the night, laughing at Barry's jokes and clapping proudly when both S.T.A.R.S. teams had been praised by Wesker and the captain of Bravo team, Enrico Marini. The blond hadn't spoken a word to her again. It wasn't as if he'd said anything extraordinary before anyway; but it felt to her like he'd laugh at her loudly if he dared open his mouth to even greet her. He had just stared at her from time to time.

Creepily, as if he knew her darkest secrets and was daring her to make him spill them.

Of course, he had indeed known her darkest of secrets after he'd caught her fingering herself watching her brother fuck Jill Valentine.

Chris had taken the two following days off to spend some time home with his sister. Claire usually enjoyed those free weekends with her brother, even if they just hang out home together, watching old movies or cartoons, and having too much junk food. However, that weekend was different. After all she had witnessed and, more important, what she had done, chatting with her brother about random stuff felt simply awkward.

"You alright?" Chris asked her chewing his slice of pepperoni pizza and pointing to her half-full plate. "Isn't it good?"

Claire looked up and nodded, "Yes, sure," she licked her lips and brought the pizza to her mouth.

The cheese was dripping off the slice, just how the Redfields usually liked it. Chris smiled in relief as he watched her enjoy the pizza.

"I thought you weren't feeling well," he said and took a sip from his beer. "You've been so lost in thought all morning. Are you sure you're up to snuff?"

Claire nodded eagerly.

"Yes, I'm just sleepy. We got home quite late last night." She tucked her hair behind her ear and smiled at her brother. Chris lifted his eyebrows

"Yes, we did," he said smirking. "I didn't mean to keep you up until that late, I'm sorry Claire. I hope you had fun, at least."

Fun? Shouldn't be such a weird word for what she'd had, but it still felt wrong. Claire didn't know how to hide her discomfort anymore. Stuffing the slice of pizza back into her mouth, she simply nodded.

"And you impressed Wesker a lot." Chris smiled proudly and Claire almost choked on her food as she heard the name.

"Really? Did he say anything?" Shallow breathing filled her lungs after she'd coughed up.

"No! Oh, no!" Chris laughed out loud. "He wouldn't admit how much the speech of an eighteen-year-old baffled him, but as he didn't mention my idiocy again, I think you calmed him down nicely."

Claire swallowed, "I see."

"So," Chris cleared his throat as he grabbed another piece of pizza and pulled it onto his plate, fighting with the cheese that just won't let go. "Jill found you really nice, too."

"Yeah, she's cool," Claire replied as her stomach turned at the mention of the brunette. "You two look like you get along well." The older Redfield eyed her and bit his lip.

"Well," he said. "That's what I wanted to speak to you about."

And there was that look. Claire was almost shocked by the dumb smile that had sneakily crawled up his face as he spoke of Valentine. Chris had put his half-eaten slice of pizza down again. What was that? Once a piece of pizza has been bitten into, it never returned to the plate of a Redfield. Claire's eyes jumped from the food back to his eyes. He had to be really nervous, she noticed and knew immediately what he was going to tell her.

"You like her, don't you?" It hadn't been just sex, had it? Chris and Jill were more than just fuckbuddies who did it in their free time. Claire put her elbow onto the table, propping up her chin, as she gave her brother a sincere smile, still hoping she was wrong about him and the brunette.

She wasn't. Chris' look dropped to the table as he licked over his lips.

"What do you think?" He looked back at his sister, giving her a somewhat bratty smirk. Claire huffed out a shy laugh, resisting the need to run away and lick her wounds in the safety of her bedroom.

"I think she likes you too," she replied. Wesker's words about Valentine being a slut still rang through her ears, but she deeply believed that the brunette had seen something in Chris that no other man could give her. Claire herself couldn't be the only girl on Earth who'd understood what a wonderful guy Chris Redfield was. "Why don't you ask her out?"

Her brother shrugged his shoulders.

"Actually," he said. "I already have."

"Really?" Claire forced a laugh and took a sip from her water. "I suppose she said yes."

_Please, let her have said no._

"She did. I wanted to ask you if you mind if I take her out tomorrow night for dinner." He winked at her and she hid how much she craved him to think about her as he does Valentine.

"Of course not," she said. "You go out with her. I am old enough to make myself something to eat. Where are you taking her?"

Chris was about to answer her question when the phone rang; he answered the call instead of her question.

"Captain Wesker!" He yelled into the device and made Claire freeze right where she sat. "I see. No problem, sir. I will be there!"

"What did he want?" Claire asked curiously when Chris sat back at the table, but the man just shook his head.

"He says he wants to see me Monday morning to speak about something." He lifted his eyebrows amusedly. "Maybe he wants to know where people with style buy their suits for occasions with a dress code."

Claire tried to laugh; she tried so hard, but the only sound emerging from her mouth were small gasps. That couldn't mean anything good. She got up and started removing the dishes from the table.

"I thought it was something urgent," she said as she walked away. "Doesn't he know it's your day off?"

"Oh, he does! Of course, he does. But as he kinda lives in the RPD, I'd say he must have forgotten that other people have lives." Chris smiled at her as he folded the pizza box like it was some sort of paper plane. "Hey, Claire, don't worry. I know you think it might be because of what happened at the party, but trust me, Wesker can tolerate a little humor without causing heads to roll."

He didn't know; he had no idea what else went on at that party. He had tried to comfort her, but he nearly made her cry. She took a deep breath before she turned to him and smiled again.

"I'm just worried about you, Chris."

"I know, Claire." He embraced her tightly. "I know."

* * *

Another night without sleep. While Chris was snoring loudly in his bed, Claire was lying awake again, afraid of what horrible things she'd see in her dreams once she closed her eyes. Wesker wanted to speak to Chris on Monday morning. She sobbed a little as she thought how that would ruin her life.

He would tell him.

"Chris, you should send your little sister to see a shrink, because she's sick." She whispered to herself, imitating Wesker's dark voice as good as best she could. "I know that because I am a sicko myself."

She should have laughed at her own comment, but, instead, she cried. Wesker would tell Chris everything and her brother would never trust her again. He would leave her behind; or put her into a madhouse; and move in with Jill Valentine instead. They would fuck every night and have a hundred little brunette children while she'd rot alone in some place where nobody would care for her studies, nor her happiness.

In an attempt to ease her nerves, she turned to the picture on the nightstand and froze. She had forgotten how mad her mother was about what she had done and the dark, disappointed glance still lingered on her face in the frame. It broke her heart. Hands tightly pressed onto her face, Claire let the tears flow wildly. She cried so hard that she feared she would drown in her own palms, or worse, wake Chris. She cried until she had no more tears; until her voice faded; until she was ready to close her eyes and face the nightmares again. A Redfield never faced nightmares without hope.

"I will fix this, mom. I promise."

* * *

"Alright, don't forget to have dinner," Chris said as he grabbed his keys and pushed them into his back pocket. "And remember, in bed at ten!" He laughed at Claire, who put on her most serious face and gave him the finger.

The day had gone as smooth as possible. The siblings had spent most of the afternoon watching sports on TV before Chris had begun to get ready for his date with Jill.

"So, where are you taking her?" Claire asked, not entirely selflessly. "You didn't tell me."

"We meet at that new Italian restaurant in the next town," Chris said. "They say it's good."

Claire sighed a little. Chris was so excited about his meeting with his coworker, and the redhead wished she could stop being so jealous about it. She wanted him to be happy; wanted him to find someone. Chris was such a good man; a little hot-headed sometimes, but all love and justice. If she could only be as happy for him as she was broken.

"I suppose that you're not coming home tonight." She leaned against the door and lifted a brow. Chris stopped doing whatever it was he was doing and slowly turned to her, a shy smirk on his face. They locked eyes and shared silence for not more than a second, before the older Redfield burst into laughter and patted her head; like a dog's. No wonder; she had to stay home like a dog, too.

"Just don't fall asleep on the couch. You're too young to destroy your back with such torture devices," he commanded, laughing, as he opened the door. "I'll be home soon."

Once Chris was out of the house, Claire ran to her wardrobe and pulled out the first random clothing she could grab. Dark pants, a tank top, and her red leather jacket would be enough, even for the ride on her bike. It was a very hot spring, and the temperatures hadn't stopped rising the previous few days. She freed her shiny Harley Davidson from its prison in their garage and let it roar loudly on her way to Raccoon City.

She needed to speak to Wesker before he spoke to Chris the next morning. Had Chris seen how anxiously she was driving, he would have sold her bike immediately. Luckily, Chris didn't know — anything — yet. In little less than half an hour, the grunting machine of hers arrived in Raccoon City. She had to ask some locals for the way to the police station, but soon afterwards, she could park outside the building, next to other bikes. Even if Chris and Jill stopped by the station, in the dark, they wouldn't notice that one was hers. Now she only needed to make sure that they wouldn't see her. Claire secured the bike and ran into the building. Wesker had to be in there; Chris had said he practically lived in the RPD.

The main hall was an impressive place, Claire thought as she looked around and saw the huge statue of a woman at the end of the room. The hall was held in dim lights, probably because it was night, but the reception desk was illuminated. There were two men sitting at the desk; young police officers. One of them almost shot her when she cleared her throat next to them.

"Oh, sorry!" she excused herself as she lifted a hand. The man blew out a breath of relief.

"Girl, I hadn't heard you come in," he said smiling. Claire wondered how he hadn't noticed her presence, as the entry door had squeaked like a dying animal when she'd opened it. "How can I help you, miss?"

Claire smirked at him. He was just a few years older than herself and had short, black hair and green eyes. He looked handsome, yet not very awake. His name sign said Pratchett.

"I am looking for Captain Wesker."

Pratchett blinked at her twice and rolled his jaw.

"Wesker…" He looked to his colleague ad received a headshake from him. His look then dropped to a huge book in front of him. He slid his fingers over the lines. "Wesker, Wesker. Oh! S.T.A.R.S. I see." He looked back at Claire. "Name?"

"Claire Redf…" She stopped speaking as she saw the man note her name into some sort of guest book. Alright, now it was sure that Chris would find out she was here.

"Claire Red. Okay!" Luckily, the young man seemed very, very sleepy as he wrote down the name. Claire sighed in relief. It wasn't the least suspicious option she could have given, but even if Chris saw the entry, he would probably just take it for a huge, funny coincidence. The man then picked up a phone and dialed a number. As he waited for someone to respond at the other end, he smiled at Claire. "Just one second, please."

Claire nodded as she watched the officer. Neither Pratchett nor his colleague knew who Wesker was. She wondered if the S.T.A.R.S. captain wasn't as famous in Raccoon City as Chris had always told her, or if these two were just new in the R.P.D. The man in front of her sighed.

"Sorry, no one's picking up." He checked another of the books on the desk. "But here it says he hasn't left the building yet." The man looked up and into Claire's eyes. "Are you family?"

The redhead opened her eyes widely and smirked.

"What?" Family? Oh, if she was a relative of that grave keeper. As if there was no other reason to come to a police department in the middle of the night. "Oh, yes. Well, almost. He is very close to my father. I need to speak to him about… personal issues."

Pratchett got up, swung a bundle of keys around his finger and gave his colleague a sign.

"I'll lead you to the S.T.A.R.S. office, lady," he said smiling, showing a row of white teeth. "Won't take us long, and nothing's going on here anyway."

Claire smirked confusedly, but followed the officer through the halls and corridors of the huge RPD. By the time they reached the door with the S.T.A.R.S. sign on it, Claire had already discovered more about Pratchett than she knew about her best friend. His name was Cory, he was twenty-two, from Iowa, and he had come to Raccoon City just a couple of months before. He loved horse riding and American literature, and his mother was so afraid that his job would get him killed that she constantly called to try to make him come back to their farm.

"So, here we are," Cory said as they stood in front of the door. He knocked and opened right away. "Uhm, hello! Captain Wesker?"

Claire's heart beat hard against her ribcage as she waited for the person inside to respond. The hair on her neck stood up when Wesker's gravelly voice reached her ears.

"Did you leave your manners back home, Pratchett?" he asked. "Here in Raccoon City, we wait to be asked to come in before we open the door."

Cory's face; the little she could see of it; turned gray when he heard Wesker's complaint. He excused himself, stuttering out an apology before he communicated to the Captain the reason for the interruption.

"Miss Claire Red wants to speak to you, Captain."

"Who?" That was the moment. Claire took a deep breath and pushed past Cory into the S.T.A.R.S. office. Wesker's face relaxed as he saw her. "Oh, you."

He was sitting at his desk in a tiny separated office inside the large room, holding some papers in his hands and staring coldly at her through the open door. Other workspaces and tables were placed in rows next to the opposite wall. Claire imagined this was where they all worked together. Chris, Jill, Barry. She silently wondered which of the desks belonged to Chris, as all of them seemed messy enough in the darkness to be her brother's. The only light came from the lamp in on the edge of Wesker's desk.

"Hello," Claire whispered as she slowly walked through the open door towards him. She was shaking from nervousness and rubbed her neck as she spoke, but her eyes bravely stood on his sunglasses.

Wesker grunted a bit and looked back at Cory, who smiled embarrassedly and turned to the door. He gave Claire one last, short nod before he left the room. The redhead turned back to Wesker.

"I'm sorry to disturb," she muttered timidly, rubbing her palms together. "But there is something I'd like to talk to you about."

The blond turned his attention back to the paperwork on his desk. However, he showed her how aware he was of all she said and did.

"I am all ears, Miss Redfield."

Claire nodded and swallowed hard.

"I heard you want to see my brother tomorrow morning," she said in a shaky voice. "I don't want to seem rude or impolite, sir, but if it has anything to do with what happened Friday night, I must plead you not to do it."

She saw his eyebrow jump up above the line of his sunglasses. Wesker huffed out a confused laugh.

"It's almost heartbreaking how eagerly you try to fix all of your brother's mistakes." He chuckled and licked his lips. "Miss Redfield, I am not the kind of man who meddles in other people's private businesses," he proceeded explaining. "But I can't turn a blind eye to the proof that one of my subordinates is living in an incestuous relationship with his underage sister."

Her jaw dropped. Incestuous relationship? Was he suggesting…?

"No! Wesker, no! Please, listen." Claire jumped forward and put her both hands onto the table in front of him. "This is not Chris' fault. He has nothing to do with it, and he certainly never…" She paused as Wesker turned his face to her. The dim glow of the lamp on his desk managed to shine onto him in a way she could almost see his eyes behind the sunglasses. "There is no relationship. Chris would never touch me." She cleared her throat. "Also, I'm not underage."

They bravely held the other's gaze, each of them keeping their own thoughts to themselves as the clock on the wall started ticking louder and louder. She didn't like his look on her. Not that she could actually see how he looked at her, but she didn't like how it felt. He was judging her; the girl who hadn't met real love in her life, and yet had found the most intense and strongest feeling anyone could ever dream of. Maybe he even envied her, she thought. Not everyone is that lucky to find a love so pure as the one she felt for Chris. However, he was most probably just pitying her. Wesker turned back to the papers and kept silent. Was he waiting for her to do something or did he want her to leave him alone? A S.T.A.R.S. Captain had probably more important stuff to do than listening to the whining of a young lady, but there was no way she would leave before he'd promise her that Chris would not be punished for her mistake.

"Please, Captain Wesker." She called out for him anew, but got no reaction. He kept flicking through the papers, stone cold. "Don't pull Chris into this. This is my own fault." She swallowed, forcing down the knot in her throat, before she carefully inspected how she could get out of that situation with Chris unharmed. "Is there anything I can do to make you change your mind?"

"Miss Redfield, don't you see that you're wasting my time? Or do you think I am here this late in the evening because I enjoy sitting in an office as big as a wardrobe?" He finally looked back at her. "I would suggest you go now."

"But there must be something!" She yelled in despair. That bag of shit and hair gel would fire Chris and accuse him of something he hadn't done; something he didn't even know about. Claire scratched over the desk surface.

"Miss Redfield! Keep your voice low!" Wesker sighed in boredom and lifted an eyebrow as he turned back to work on the documents on the table. "Also, what do you think I could possibly want from an unripe something like you?"

Eyes wide open, she stopped breathing. Her heart raced in her chest and she believed she'd faint any time. The air in the room turned thin and dense, hot and cold at once. She shivered; gasped for air. What could he possibly want from her? Claire licked her lips as the thought sunk in.

He wanted sex, didn't he?

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, forcing herself to keep a cool head. Maybe she was getting it all wrong. He was the Captain of S.T.A.R.S. Alpha Team and a recognized person in Raccoon City, after all. He couldn't be seriously blackmailing her into…

"What? Are you saying…?" she asked carefully. Wesker didn't lift his look again.

"I'm saying that you talk too much." He spoke slowly, stretching the last three words into an endless torture.

She talked too much, and he didn't want her to talk. He wanted her to do something. She imagined him taking pictures of her and touching himself when he was alone. Burning tears threatened with escaping her eyes, but there was nothing she could do about it. She needed to protect Chris from the evil of this man; because she was sure that Chris would do anything to protect her, too. Claire swallowed and looked around shyly. The office was empty; there was just the two of them. Maybe, if she took her shirt off, Wesker would be satisfied.

Determinedly, she reached for the zipper of her jacket. If this was what he wanted for his silence, she would give it to him.

"Just to be clear," she mumbled as she slowly unzipped the clothing. "I am doing this for Chris."

Inch by inch, the zipper made its particular high-pitched crackling sound as it opened. She couldn't quite believe what she was doing, stripping in front of Chris' Captain, only a few steps away from his desk. Once undone, Claire removed the jacket from her left shoulder, timidly pulling her left arm out of the sleeve. Then, she did the same with the right one. She watched Wesker the whole time; and he watched her. Although he hadn't turned his face back to her, still pretending to be reading one of the articles or reports in his hands, he hadn't moved one muscle since she had started undressing. What a huge coward he was, she thought; hiding behind those sunglasses of his to give young ladies indecent looks from the safety of the dark.

Claire ripped the tank top out of the pants and pulled it up, over her stomach, her breasts, and over her head. She tossed it onto the ground as she stood in front of Wesker's desk in her black bra. He still didn't move. So cold; so unlike the boys in her class, who had growled like wild animals as they'd once spied on the girls in the locker room, yelling all kinds of horrible names for lady parts through the corridors as they'd run away. However, the boys in her class had all been childish virgin teenagers, and Wesker had probably seen enough women naked not to freak out because he was seeing one wearing just a bra. Claire swallowed. She could feel the goosebumps on her entire body as she reached for the hooks on her back. They clicked open so loudly that it almost startled her. Wesker was still pretending to be working when she let the loose bra fall off her shoulders. It slipped to the floor next to the top.

And there she stood, half-naked, and there was still no reaction from the blond man at the desk. She sighed. Maybe she was boring him.

"Do you want me to stop? Is this enough?"

And Wesker began to move. Putting his palms onto the desk, he pushed himself off the chair and got onto his feet. He didn't care to look at her as he walked around his desk and towards the door of the S.T.A.R.S. office. Claire stopped breathing. Where was he going? She shifted a little and her eyes followed the Captain...

Wesker turned the key in the door and locked it. Oh god. She had taken her shirt off in an unlocked room, knowing that impertinent people like Cory Pratchett could come in unasked. Wesker must have thought she was incredibly stupid. She swallowed as he turned back to her.

"Do you believe this is enough, Miss Redfield?" he asked and stole her breath. Of course, it wasn't enough. How could she believe that Wesker would be satisfied with what he had seen so far if it wasn't even what he had gotten Friday night from her? Friday night, she had let him touch her. He would want to touch her again, wouldn't he? Claire shivered slightly as she wondered if he had been thinking of her since then. She turned completely to the door, where he stood; knowing that she needed to give him more this time.

She reached for the button on her pants and pushed it through the hole; so nervous, that it took her three attempts. Wesker still stood next to the door, now unable to hide that he was watching her. However, he still didn't give her any reaction, and just kept staring as she peeled off her clothes for him. Claire bent over to push her pants down her thighs, her full breasts dangling joyfully as she did. When the cloth had been lowered to her ankles, she noticed that she should have taken off her boots first. Trying to kick them off elegantly, she stumbled. Holding on to the desk behind her kept her from falling, though. Wesker seemed to laugh a little. Embarrassed, she booted the footwear away from her along with her pants.

When she hooked her thumbs into her panties to push them off her hips, Wesker began to move. He strolled back to her with the excitement of a funeral procession, but at least he was moving. Claire held her breath as he stopped next to her and put both of his hands onto hers, stopping her from pulling them down. Her breasts nearly brushed his vest as she held gazes with a pair of sunglasses.

"Shall I help you with these?" he asked in a gruff voice and it killed her. Claire grimaced in pain as Wesker knelt down in front of her, carefully moving her grey cotton panties down her thighs. "We wouldn't want you to harm yourself, would we?"

She nearly cried out. He was embarrassing her with every word he said and he obviously enjoyed it. Even the way he removed her underwear seemed to be a mere method to shame her. Once the panties had reached her ankles, Claire stepped out of them, and Wesker put them into his pocket as he got up again. He seemed taller now; or maybe she was shorter. She felt tiny and ashamed as she stood there, watching his face and waiting for him to do something. She was cold and the way her hard nipples pointed at him would have made it obvious even to the blind. In an attempt to make her feel warmer, she moved her right hand over her chest and up to her collarbone, as the left slid to her hips.

"Why are you covering yourself after exposing your body so bravely, Miss Redfield?" The S.T.A.R.S. captain asked in a hoarse tone. Claire swallowed, shaking.

"I…" she stuttered.

"Don't you feel beautiful?" He breathed the last word into her face and made her shiver. "I bet Chris never tells you he finds you beautiful, does he?"

Claire's eyes snapped up to his face and she put her hands back down, letting her arms dangle freely on both sides of her body as she let Wesker inspect her. He didn't touch her. He just kept staring and she was as relieved about it as she was disappointed. A part of her had expected him to be rude and wild; to command her to open her thighs to him, but it seemed his intentions were others.

"So uneasy, Claire," he grunted. "Please, stop looking at me as if I was going to rape you on that desk behind you. May I remind you that you came by yourself?"

She gasped. It was true. She herself had come to ask him a favor, knowing perfectly who she was dealing with.

"What do you want me to do?" she asked breathily as her look dropped to his lips. He was so close again.

"You can be as creative as you wish, Claire." His confusing response made her shiver. "Surprise me."

Surprise him? Her eyes jumped from his chin and lips back to the dark sunglasses, trying to see anything behind the dark shield. Blinking nervously, she blew a breath against his throat as her hand reached timidly for his groin. His parts were in perfect height for her hand to cup the bulge and rub it. Surprisingly, it fit perfectly into her palm. She had expected him to be… harder, but he wasn't. Maybe he wasn't liking what he saw. Claire watched his face; still so calm. She chewed on her lower lip as she began to squeeze him a little harder through his pants until he let out an impatient growl.

"Miss Redfield," he hissed against her forehead. "Maybe you should start with something you can handle."

Ouch. Claire swallowed in offense as she let go of him and jerked back a little. Her thighs hit the desk and she pushed herself onto it, spreading her legs to Wesker. She would show him what she could handle. Her breasts went up and down under her deep, quick breathing as her right hand reached for her spot. The touch surprised her; she was soaking wet.

"Do you want to see how I finger myself again?" she hissed as she pushed two digits into herself with ease. "Do you enjoy watching young girls? Does it turn you on?"

She could almost hear him roll his eyes as he took a step towards her and pushed her right knee up. Her whole wetness was now rubbing over his pants. Claire sucked in a breath, startled. Wesker's free hand reached for her left breast.

"And this, Miss Redfield? Does this turn  _you_  on?" She squeaked a bit as he groped her ungently. "Don't you want to move your fingers, Claire? It's much more effective if you want to stimulate yourself properly."

She nearly cried after the shock. In just a fraction of a moment he had taken hold of her, playing with her body like two nights prior. She tried to keep moving her fingers and please herself as he had suggested, closing her eyes as Wesker tugged on her breast. His groin pressed her hand tighter against her clit and ripped a moan from her lips. And he chuckled. Wesker finally gave a somewhat human response.

"Do you enjoy that, Miss Redfield?" He laughed darkly as he pushed her onto the desk and stroked over her upper body with one hand and up to her mouth. He slid a finger over her lips, playing with them, until she opened her mouth and sucked on his finger. She cried out a little when she heard the distinctive sound of a zipper. Her eyes flew open; she quaked and sucked in a breath.

"Aren't you feeling well, Miss Redfield?" His dark voice shattered over her. "Isn't this what you came for?"

The pressure on her chest increased as her look dropped from Wesker's face to his groin. She watched as he pulled out his manhood right in front of her. Teeth chattering, she gathered some courage and nodded eagerly.

"Alright," she whispered, breathing heavily, as her body tensed on the desk. She wanted to cry. She wanted to push that ass away, run off into the next empty room and cry her heart out, but that wouldn't do Chris any good. She watched Wesker one-eyed as he stroked himself right next to her. "Wait. Aren't you going to use… something?"

He smirked. Wesker was smirking at her. It was so rare, it was almost frightening. Claire watched him as he walked around the desk and opened a drawer, pulling out a string of condoms and ripping one off. He was so close to her head. Curling a little, she could perfectly see his shaft stick out. It looked huge and thick, from where she was lying, crowned with a hint of soft blond hair at the bottom, and he was hard now. It disgusted her. Was she really going to do this?

 _'For Chris_ ,' she thought and dug her fingernails so hard into her palms that it drew blood.

Wesker walked back to the other side of the desk where she was offering herself so lustfully to him. He smirked again, patting her red-haired mound as he rolled the condom over his whole length. Claire closed her eyes and took a deep breath. This was for Chris, she thought. She would die for him if it would save him. Wesker pushed a finger into her creamy little hole before he pushed his tip against her. She cried out.

"Please, could you try to be gentle?" Eyes opening slightly and in fear, she shook her head. "I haven't… I haven't done this before."

The man wasn't smirking anymore.

"Interesting," his voice said as he nodded shortly and put both hands onto her hips. They were warm and strong and pulled her bottom further to the edge of the table, closer to his groin. Claire closed her eyes again as she saw how he was putting the tip of his erection against her lips again. She breathed in deeply as he pushed into her.

Her hands grabbed his and tried to push him away from her, but his grip on her was powerful. Inch by inch, he drove his thick member into her inners and stretched her wide; wider. It hurt; it ached; and she wanted to scream, but she only allowed a silent tear to roll down her cheeks and onto the desk as he made his way into her depth. Yet, he wasn't harsh nor merciless. He was advancing slowly, his thumbs caressing her hips softly as he held her, until he hit something inside her. She had never experienced a pain so strong in her abdomen and the shock over it searched for a way out. Wesker bent over and covered Claire's mouth before the redhead could scream in pain. She cried into his palm instead.

"It will get better from now on," he whispered. He had stopped moving and waited patiently for her to relax. But how could she relax under this man? He was like a hundred years older than her, he wore sunglasses at night and he was blackmailing her into having sex with him on a desk. She kept breathing heavily into his palm, keeping him waiting until he seemed to lose patience. "Miss Redfield, it is in mutual interest that you stop being so tense. Your body will adapt better to the situation if you relax, and to your partner it will always be more pleasant to know that he's not having intercourse with a stiff doll."

Claire's eyes opened abruptly and darted at him. She shifted a bit and Wesker let go of her mouth.

"Fuck you!" she hissed into his face and caused him to chuckle.

"I fear that's  _your_  job, Claire." He stood upright and took grip of her thighs again. "Maybe thinking of your brother helps you focus on the task." He laughed darkly. "Won't you imagine it's Chris who is touching you? I promise I won't take it personally."

Chris.

His name worked like a spell on her. It was almost like she could smell him, there with her. She was so close to his desk, where he sat every day; after working out in the gym; after cleaning himself in the showers. It was where he thought, where he wrote reports, where he attempted to do some research or case study. Claire closed her eyes again as she pictured Chris standing in the office, handsome and wild-spirited, watching how she was lying there, with her legs spread wide. Anyway, she was doing it for Chris; and giving her virginity for him was almost as good as giving it to him.

She pictured Chris watching her. How beautiful he was; so lovely. She made a sound of need and arched her back as Chris touched her, slowly replacing the image of the blond man who was actually doing so. His hands on her hips, and his dick pushing into her. Claire moaned as she reached out for his hands, scratched smoothly over the hairy skin of his forearms, and led them to her breasts.

"Touch me," she whined and almost overheard the dark chuckle. The grip on her was firm as he thumbed over her breasts and made her gasp for air. It still hurt; it burnt, but it felt good now as the pain had become part of her pleasure. "You can go faster, if you want."

And the pace rushed up as the hands on her breasts held her tighter and tugged harder. She pressed two of her fingers into her mouth and wetted them before she reached down to her clit, rubbing the nub urgently.

"Oh, God," she whined as she felt the heat in herself rise. The thrusts became harder and she felt how her breasts jumped even under the solid grip on them. She had never felt anything similar before. Claire quivered, shook, and came, crying softly as she bit her tongue. Her free hand grabbed the hand on one of her breasts and dug her fingernails into it. She clung onto the man in front of her until she relaxed, giving in to heavy, deep breaths.

Claire collapsed on the desk. Satisfied and sweaty, she opened her eyes and watched Wesker keep thrusting into her. Once, twice more; and he breathed heavily. Her eyes locked on him, she observed his face as he came inside her.

Alright, inside the condom.

She shifted, a little disgusted, as Wesker pulled out and kept staring at her. His face was as dead as it had been during the whole act. Did that guy ever show any emotion? About to complain, Claire swallowed her own words as the blond began to speak.

"Looks like you were a virgin, indeed."

She sat up, frowning at the thin line of blood on the condom and jumped off the desk, offended. Had he had any doubts about that? Had he even really believed Chris could have…? She raged silently, bending down to grab her clothes and dress in a hurry as Wesker removed the condom and pulled up the zipper of his pants again. Claire strapped her bra back on and threw the tank top over her head as her look dropped to the ground.

"Where are my panties?" she hissed and turned to Wesker, who had already turned his attention back to the report on the sweaty desk. Without looking up, he cleared his throat.

"In my pocket."

Fuck! She swallowed, closing her eyes and wondering if it would be of any use to ask him to give them back. A sigh left her lips as she saw her whole plan shattered. Now he couldn't only tell Chris about her dark feelings; now he could also prove him that she was a slut who had fucked his Captain.

"What are you going to do with them?" She asked a little fearfully, standing in front of his desk and waiting for a response. And Wesker took his sunglasses off for the first time that night; maybe even for the first time ever.

"Your secret is safe with me, Miss Redfield."

Claire nodded her head, huffing out a laugh. This wasn't the end. She had done what she had needed to do in order to save Chris. She had saved him, but it wasn't over yet. Wesker still knew what he knew, and there was no reason for her to trust that man, no matter how often he took his sunglasses off to make a promise. She would have to expect him to reach her anytime and repeat what had just happened.

But, for that night, she'd had enough. She stepped into her pants, not worrying about elegance anymore. Claire stumbled again as she tried to step into her boots, but this time Wesker didn't see it; or, at least, he didn't react.

Once dressed, she turned on her heels and stormed to the door, closing it on her way out with a loud slam. She even ignored the nice words of Cory on her way out. All she wanted was to go home and have a shower and get rid of the smell of that psychopath that was all over her. She swung her leg over her Harley and nearly cried out. With her parts still sore, the ride was a torture. When she arrived home, she ran into her bedroom and threw off all her clothes. Standing in the darkness of her room, only lit by a shy ray moonlight, she started crying.

Her mother was still looking displeased.


	4. Silence

Three, two, one and she wasn't a virgin anymore. That quick; that easy; that meaningless. One deep thrust and everything was over, and the condition she'd had carried with herself for over eighteen years was now rotting on some desk and on the mind of a man twice her age. Claire hadn't imagined her first time to be very romantic, as she'd known for sure that it wouldn't happen with the man whom she wanted it to happen with. However, reality had, once again, shown just how ugly things could get for those who dared wish something forbidden, and she had lost her virginity to the man she most despised in the whole world. And she'd even had an orgasm with him.

Two actually, if the fingering in the gardens counted.

When Claire had gotten home, she'd run into her bedroom and thrown off all her clothes. They were the only witnesses of her doing and felt so filthy on her that she could barely stand looking into the mirror. She hadn't even cared to wash them. Just as they came off, the dark pants, the tank top, her bra and the red jacket she'd always loved so much had been stuffed into a plastic bag and tossed carelessly under her bed. She'd dispose of them the next morning.

After a long, hot shower, she'd cried in her bed under the hateful look of her mother. So disappointed, and rightly so. Hadn't her daughter become the shame of the family, after offering herself so willingly to the wrong man? Was her will to save the right one reason enough to disgrace the name Redfield? Claire wondered if everyone else could see how dark her mother's glance had grown on that picture or if that was a blessing that only she herself was granted. Was she ever going to look differently again? Claire missed her mother. Was there any way to fix this?

With those thoughts on her mind, she'd surrendered to exhaustion.

* * *

Every new morning brought hope.

That was true, she thought, as her alarm clock rattled her awake in the morning and she climbed out of her bed. Walking into the corridor and spying through Chris' open bedroom door, all the shame from the previous night suddenly vanished.

So what if she had slept with Chris' Captain? Did it really matter that he was keeping her panties along with her secrets? Not everybody could say that they'd had an orgasm their very first time, could they? Who the fuck cared what she had done to keep Chris safe — if Chris wasn't even there?

She stared at the made bed through the open door and shivered. Chris hadn't slept in it last night. After checking the rest of the house, she found that her brother hadn't even come back from his date with Valentine yet and all kinds of awful thoughts filled her head. Chris was likely to get in trouble when he got drunk — and when he was sober. What if something had happened to him? Where was he? What had he been doing? And why hadn't he cared to tell her?

Claire shook the thought off, letting the minor voice of conscience take control over her nerves. Chris was fine, for sure. He had, most probably, just spent the night with Jill at her place and hadn't gotten the chance to give his sister a call. Just as the thought and the frustration over it sank in, the phone rang. Claire hurried into the living room and nearly threw over a chair as she grabbed the phone and pressed it to her ear.

"Hello?"

"Claire, it's me." It was Chris, of course. Thank god, he was okay. "I hope I didn't wake you."

"What happened? Where are you?" Claire tried not to sound jealous or exaggeratedly worried, but all attempts to make her voice be stern and stronger failed. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, I am." Chris chuckled a bit. "I'm sorry I worried you, Claire. I had a drink too much and stayed in a motel out of town. I'll be driving to work right away, okay?"

Claire released her breath. He was fine. Of course, he had just been drunk and stupid and forgetful and he hadn't wanted to call her in the middle of the night because he'd believed she was sleeping, like the good girl he thought she was. However, Claire heard the laughter in the background; a chiding laugh and a click of a tongue; and she knew that there had been another reason why Chris hadn't called her earlier.

"It's alright, Chris. I'm glad you're fine," she murmured into the phone. "I'll see you later today. Say hi to Jill from me."

More laughter.

"I will."

And they hung up.

Claire put the phone down with a heavy heart. Now that he had found Jill, Chris seemed to care a little less if his sister was actually dying of fear. Who cared? As long as he was happy, Claire was supposed to be happy too, wasn't she?

She looked into the mirror next to the phone and sucked in some air. Her face had grown into a grey mask of pain and fatigue, the result of a short night and a razing shock in the morning. Hesitantly, Claire gave her watch a brief look and took up the phone again.

It was better if she stayed home that day.

* * *

She was pulled out of her sleep by a loud noise at the door. A little dizzy, Claire lifted her head and blinked into the daylight before she understood where she was. Her look drove to her watch; she had slept four more hours but still felt exhausted. The calmative she'd taken before going back to bed had been stronger than she'd expected. Another loud noise caught her attention. It had come from downstairs. Claire crawled out of the bed and put her ear against the door.

"Alright. Make yourself comfortable."

It was Chris. He had probably come with Barry after work to have a chat and some beer together.  _Guys' stuff_ , he called it. They often did that when they were dismissed earlier than they'd expected. Claire relaxed immediately, ready to get back into bed. She'd greet Barry later.

"No, not in the bed. Claire would notice."

She froze as she heard her name and opened the bedroom door a little to hear what Chris didn't want her to know. Loud laughter came from downstairs.

"You could make your bed afterwards, you know?"

That wasn't Barry's voice. It was too sweet, too feminine; too much like Jill's.

"Oh, fuck, I love how huge you are."

He had brought Jill home. He had brought Jill home while Claire was supposed to be in school. Was this the first time or was the brunette a usual visitor at their house? Claire's chest ached as she imagined how often Chris could have been with his lover while she had been working for her future. Was Jill even the first one he brought home? Claire took a deep breath and shut her eyes as she leaned against the frame, unable to move. She heard a moan coming from the floor below and opened the door a little wider. What the fuck was wrong with her? What was she going to do?

"Oh, yes, take it all in," she heard Chris say. Claire hadn't moved from her bedroom, still standing behind the slightly open door, but she could hear better now. Her heart beat anxiously. "Oh, baby."

She couldn't see anything; she just listened in complete silence and suffering. Only Chris' moans could be heard as Valentine seemed to hum dully.

"Now just the head. Do that thing with your tongue." Another moan coming from Chris and Claire nearly died of need. Jill was sucking him again; right there in their living room. Damnit, and she didn't even know where they were doing it, so she could avoid sitting on that spot later. Claire grimaced at the thought and let her head fall against the door as she closed it. Chris would be surprised to find her home that early. Silently, she decided it would be better if she got back to bed and tried to pretend she hadn't heard anything. So, she closed the door and crawled back into the bed. After pulling the covers over her head and turning to the wall, she palpated the spot between her thighs. Unsurprisingly, she was wet.

* * *

When she woke up again, the moans and laughter had ceased. Thank god. Claire climbed out of the bed, pulled on a thick robe and undid her ponytail, quickly checking in the mirror of her bedroom that she actually looked a little sick. Good. The worse she looked, the less questions Chris would ask, and the less questions he asked, the minor were the chances he would find out where she had been the night before. Claire gave herself a nod in the mirror and left her room to go downstairs. It was time to have lunch.

Chris and Jill were chatting vividly in the living room when she came down. The woman was the first one to catch sight of her and stopped talking in the middle of the sentence. Chris, who had been sitting with his back to the stairs, turned around in shock and froze as he saw his sister. Claire held back a chuckle.

"Hey, what are you doing here this early?" she asked innocently. "Is everything alright?"

Chris, startled, moved his lips like a fish out of the water. He then nodded.

"Yes, sure. We just had a meeting this morning and were dismissed until the evening. Irons just told us he wanted Alpha Team to do night shift tonight, so…" he frowned at his sister and got up. "And you? I thought you were in school. Aren't you feeling well?"

Claire shrugged and shook her head.

"I wasn't, so I stayed home, but I'm much better now." She smiled at the pair, but their frightened faces made her feel the need to add some more information. "I took a calmative and some painkillers and went back to bed. Looks like I just needed some more sleep."

Chris smiled in relief as he walked around the couch and touched Claire's forehead.

"No fever. Okay. You stayed awake way too late, didn't you? Next time I tell you to go to bed at ten, you better listen to me," he said laughing and embraced his sister as Claire began to box him into the ribs; a little harder than she usually did.

When he let go of her, Claire turned to Jill and smiled.

"Nice to see you here, Jill." She gave the brunette the widest smile she could give. "Are you staying for lunch?"

* * *

"Wow, that Irons is a dick, isn't he?" Claire noticed as Chris told her how the Chief of the Raccoon City Police had ordered Wesker to send Alpha Team on a special operation that night. "I mean, what can be so urgent that you don't get more than two hours to prepare that operation?"

Chris chomped the lasagna as he shrugged his shoulders.

"Barry believes he might be expecting his wife to cheat on him and we should go have a look." He flooded the food down his throat with a generous amount of beer before he laughed. Jill, who was sitting on his right just shook her head smirking.

"I'm not sure but I don't think Irons has a wife," she was cutting her food into small, digestible pieces with her fork. "I mean, he didn't bring anyone to the party, right? Also, one must have a stomach like a dung beetle to get intimate with that guy. I heard he once groped one of the girls from forensics." She grimaced disgusted at Claire, who swallowed her food with difficulties.

"Anyway, we'll be heading back to Raccoon a little earlier today, so we can have a calm look at the plan." Chris turned to Jill. "Wesker will surely be there, too."

"Of course, he will." Jill rolled her eyes. "He sleeps in the RPD."

Claire wondered why they had even made the whole long ride to their home from Raccoon City even though Jill's apartment was much closer to the RPD. Anyway, the news that Wesker would be leading the operation was of much more interest to her. Hopefully, he would get shot. Lost in thoughts, she nearly missed the shy glance Jill was giving her brother, but as she caught sight of it, Claire decided it was time to get dessert. She stood up and headed to the kitchen, from where she heard their conversation.

"That's very nice of you, Chris, but I can't accept your offer," Jill whispered in the living room.

"Come on! It will be only for a week or two, won't it?" Chris replied a little louder. "You need a place to stay and where would you be better than with me? With us?"

Claire grimaced into the fridge as she understood what was going on. Angrily, she grabbed some fruit and headed back to the living room.

"You're staying with us?" She smiled widely at the brunette as she took a seat. Chris smirked.

"Yeah, if you don't mind." He caressed over Claire's ponytail as he turned to Jill. "There was a fire in her apartment block."

"Oh, I'm so sorry to hear that," Claire exclaimed. So, that was the reason why they hadn't driven to Jill's place. The brunette just smiled and nodded.

"Everything is fine. It happened three floors below and they could extinguish it before it reached my apartment." The brunette sighed. "But the whole building is closed until they decide it's safe and habitable again."

Claire felt sorry for Jill, who had been unlucky enough to live in the same block as a young couple that had been too in love to notice that they had left the stove on when they'd gone shopping. Of course, she wanted to help. Offering shelter to those who needed it wasn't a problem in their home, as it came with a third bedroom besides Chris' and her own. However, Claire wished it had been someone else. She smiled comfortingly at the brunette.

"So, we will be three from now on." She shrugged her shoulder and grabbed an apple. "That will be fun."

* * *

Living with Jill was fun indeed. The brunette had the most extensive knowledge about old films and TV shows and she didn't mind sharing it with others; she knew how to make crêpes, which were super thin, French pancakes; and she was the best at lock-picking. The first afternoon Chris was working and Jill was home, the brunette taught Claire how to open the simple lock on a small chest that had once belonged to their grandad and which her mother had kept in his honor, even though the key was missing. Inside, they found his old uniform and love letters he had gotten from the woman who'd used to be his girlfriend before he'd met their grandmother. The revelation had been awkwardly surprising, as their stiff, bossy old grandfather was described as the most loving man on earth by that poor, unknowing girl. Maybe marriage with their grandmother had been the reason for his decay.

As Chris and Jill barely shared their work shifts the first week, Claire got the chance to spend some time with Jill alone and she found out very quickly that she had a lot in common with the pretty brunette. Jill could curse like a truck driver, she adored junk food, and she'd had the biggest crush on her brother since the day they'd met.

"Oh, I thought he was so cute," Jill explained as they had crêpes together on Wednesday afternoon. "We had our interviews the same day and we started chatting about random stuff while we were waiting for Wesker to call us into his office. The funny thing is that we had both been told about what a freak the Captain was, but none of us dared say anything as we suspected each other could be a spy… or even Wesker himself." Jill laughed as she remembered that day. "The whole talk sounded like  _uhm, yes, I heard a lot of stuff about him… uhm… good stuff, of course_."

Admittedly, Claire had a great time with Jill. The brunette was funny and kind, she laughed a lot and she was as crazy about Chris as he was about her. And Claire hated her for it. Of course, she hid it very well. Her role was to be the little sister and, so, she was expected to want Chris to be happy. However, accepting Jill at home had been one of the hardest steps she'd ever taken. Sure, it was nice to have another woman living with them, but no matter how much she enjoyed Jill's company, she hated the way Chris looked at her. It was a glance full of lust and desire, but also tenderly warm and longing — something Claire had never seen on him before.

Was that the face lovers made when they were together?

She began to wonder if she herself looked at Chris the same way, as she was sure that nobody in the world could feel anything bigger than the love she felt for her brother. And it hurt to know that he would never feel the same for her.

Chris and Jill took every chance they got to grope each other. One afternoon, when Claire returned from school, she caught them with Jill's hand in Chris' pants. They let go of each other instantly and tried to hide their arousal clumsily; Jill shrugging as if nothing had happened and Chris… Chris just turned away from his sister. Claire hadn't known how to react. She'd excused herself and had run upstairs into her bedroom. From that day on, the pair became very cautious and kept their hands off each other when there was a chance the redhead could surprise them again. And Claire? Claire took advantage of it.

A little unconsciously, she began to avoid leaving the two of them alone, spending more time home that she'd used to. That would stop Chris from touching Jill shamelessly in the living room or the kitchen, but it wasn't keeping him from wanting her.

Jill had left her stuff in the guest bedroom, but she slept almost every night in Chris' bed. Luckily, on Tuesday, Chris worked until late while Jill had to get up early in the morning, and there wasn't much time and energy left for them to think about sex. Wednesday, Claire had used a boring action thriller on TV as an excuse to stay up until late. Thursday, though, she was yawning too much during the afternoon to make Chris let her stay awake, and as soon as he'd sent her to bed, Jill and he himself disappeared into his bedroom, as well.

Chris tried to hide it, of course. He watched out that they kept their voices low and the moves slow, so they wouldn't wake his sister. What he didn't know was that his sister hadn't even fallen asleep. Claire heard every aching sound of their doing and no matter how hard she tried to feel entirely happy for Chris, a part of her was dying inside every time she heard the headboard crash accidentally against her wall.

"Shit, be careful." She heard Chris' voice through the paper sheets their walls were made of. In all the years they had lived in that house, her brother's snoring had never bothered her, but hearing him and Jill Valentine in bed was pure torture. Claire turned to the picture of her mother on the nightstand.

"Tell me, mom," she whispered to the photograph. "Do you look at Chris the same way you look at me?"

She didn't get an answer, of course. Claire cursed and pushed her pillow around her head, onto her ears, hoping it would isolate her from the painful truth. It almost worked. Almost. Close to drifting away, she was pulled back to reality by another loud squeak coming from the next room.

"Oops!" Jill laughed timidly as if she had actually tried to be quiet. "Oh, damnit. I love your cock."

That slut. Chris' dick was everything she was after, wasn't it? Wesker had said Jill had fucked half of the RPD already. Maybe it was true. Maybe she had tested them all and had concluded that Chris was the best of them all. Claire's blood boiled in anger as she pictured Valentine putting her slim, boney fingers onto her brother's member. What a disgusting image.

Disgustingly arousing.

The headboard hit the wall again. It was just that; a static rhythm of moving furniture; that caused her spot to tickle and her thighs to shake. Damnit. Her hand intuitively drove down her belly and into her panties. She hadn't really touched herself since the night in the S.T.A.R.S. office, as memories of Albert Wesker and his hands on her body were killing every bit of sexual desire in her. But now, she felt the desire again. Her look drove to the picture on the nightstand again, from where her mother was judging her silently.

"Enough," Claire whispered and reached for the picture, turning the frame around and letting her mother stare displeased at the wall instead, before she dug two fingers into her heat. The headboard kept smashing into the wall every now and then, and also the moans became louder, more unbridled. Even Chris'. No wonder. Her hot-headed brother was passionate in everything he did and once his fire was unleashed, nothing could stop his groin from conquering. She didn't care anymore. Because, to Claire, it was as if he was moaning for her.

"Chris!" Valentine whined somewhere in the next room, and her voice melted into Claire's, disappearing in the lust of two lovers who could never be together. Claire moaned into the silence of her room.

Silent, like the gardens.

Her hand stopped abruptly as she remembered what had happened Friday night at the party, and all the shame came back to her. What the fuck had she been doing? She had been touching herself again, listening to Chris and Jill in the next room, after all the trouble that weakness of hers had gotten her into; after all the sickening things she had done to buy Albert Wesker's silence. Disgusted by herself, she cleaned her hand, sat up and stared into the room.

When the shock of the revelation had ceased, the moans were still filling the night. Fighting back tears as if there was nothing else to do, Claire laid back down and listened to her brother making love to Jill Valentine. Because, to him, that was what it was. Love. A love she wasn't part of. Claire turned her mother back to face her and sighed.

"I'm trying to be strong, mom," she said. "You could really give me some support here."

Her mother's glance seemed to pierce a little less into her soul and made it easier to stand the sounds of need that came from the other bedroom. It made her feel a little stronger, until both Chris and Jill decided to end her suffering and screamed their climax into the night.

* * *

The silence after they finished became palpable in the room. So loud, Claire couldn't even hear her breath any longer. Chris and Jill had surely fallen asleep after their doing, and she was all that was left awake, consigned to thoughts of loneliness.

"Oh god," Jill's voice came from the other side of the wall. So, she wasn't asleep. Claire sighed in despair, hoping they wouldn't just continue their doing. "I thought we would never get the chance to do this again."

Claire sucked in a breath. Was she talking about her? Of course, the little sister was in the way, always around when Jill wanted to drop her panties for Chris. A little satisfied, a little angry, Claire huffed out a laugh. So, she seemed to be a thorn in Jill's side.

"So sorry, Valentine," she whispered to herself.

"Come on," she heard Chris reply, half-laughing, half-yawning. "This situation is weird to her. It's always been just the two of us and… Well, she might feel a little jealous."

Claire's eyes widened. Jealous? She put her hand onto her chest to check if her heart had stopped beating out of shock. Chris believed she was jealous? Did he know… sense… anything? It couldn't be, could it?

"Admittedly, the other way around, it would make me sick as well." He laughed. He laughed so warmheartedly at the thought of his baby sister being with anyone else that Claire let go a gasp of pure need in her bedroom. Proudly, she felt that her heart was still beating; stronger and faster than ever. Chris would be jealous, too, wouldn't he? That was what he believed, at least, because he couldn't know just how far her own jealousy really went; how much he and Jill were torturing her.

"You would probably punch everybody who got too close to your sister." Jill laughed again.

Claire, in her bedroom, couldn't have felt happier in that moment. He would never touch her. She knew, for sure, that he would never touch her, but deep inside his soul, Chris knew that she was his, and that no other man would ever be able to replace him in her heart, just like she would always be his special girl. He had kept Forest Speyer from talking to her, after all. Claire relaxed and turned around, willing to fall asleep.

She had to be careful, though. It was better he didn't know how deep her love for him went, and how much her feeling made her despise his girlfriend. She was the little sister; the only one who would stay with him when all Jill Valentines were bound to go. And if the price she had to pay to be with him forever was silence, she would make that silence hers.

Accepting Jill by his side would be a little harder.


	5. Fresh Air

She couldn't see anything.

A warm breeze blew around her head and whistled sweet words of tenderness into her ear as Claire tried to make out any other sound that would tell her where she was — or with whom. An unfamiliar sting ached and bled in her chest, on the back of her head and around her wrists and ankles. She was tied to a chair, with her eyes covered; that much she knew. But where she was and how she had gotten there remained unexplained.

Where was Chris?

"Chris?" Her voice scratched in her throat as she called for her dear brother — for an answer that was never given. Fear began to crawl up her body, leaving painful goosebumps on its way, and Claire knew she was naked. Exposed like a circus animal. "Chris?"

Defeated whimpers were everything she was able to send out for her brother, until her head fell forward, hanging unsolemnly over the rest of her bent body. The droplets of sweat that abandoned her forehead hit her thighs as if they wanted to drill into her flesh and torture her. What was happening? Who had done this to her and why? Would she ever find out or was she being tortured purposelessly?

"Claire?" Her head flew up again when the voice reached her. Chris. Chris was there with her. Claire tried to shake the blindfold off her head, but it just cut its tightening strings deeper into her skin with every move. The scream it ripped from her lips could have woken the dead and she prayed her brother wasn't as caught and pained as she was herself. She'd soon find out that he wasn't. "What have you done, Claire?"

Her eyes were freed from the blindfold that had shielded her from the surroundings. Quick and merciless, reality took her in and held her tight as she eventually found out where she had been kept. She was in a large room, with dark red lights shining onto her, highlighting the embarrassing pose she was in. It was even worse than she'd expected. She was naked, indeed, but it wasn't just that. Someone had painted the word  _whore_  over her chest and abdomen.

"Chris!" She began to cry. "Chris, please."

Her brother was standing across the room. Free and mad, he didn't show the slightest intention to untie his sister, as he was busy repeating his branding words.

"What have you done, Claire?"

The ropes slung harder around her wrists and ankles under her firm tries to free herself. What? What was he speaking about? Why wasn't he helping her?

"Please…"

"Please, what? Miss Redfield?"

Her head swung around and she saw that they weren't alone anymore. Above her, from behind the darkness of the protecting sunglasses, the eyes of Albert Wesker blamed her silently. "I heard you tried to kill Jill Valentine."

"What? No!" Claire began to shake her head in despair. Alright. Jill wasn't her favorite person in the whole world; she wouldn't deny it. The brunette was trying to take Chris away from her, after all, and Claire wanted her nowhere near her brother, but she would have never tried to do her harm. "I let her live with us."

Wesker sighed.

"Chris asked me for advice." His strong hand stroked over her shoulder, descending slowly. It burnt like acid where it touched her. Claire whimpered and turned back to Chris. Why wouldn't he help her? "Unfortunately, I had to inform him about your…" He paused. "Condition."

"No." Tears burst free and covered her face instantly. Grimacing in pain, her look jumped from Chris to Wesker and back. Her big brother, her guardian, was still staring, simply watching as his Captain assaulted her. Wesker's hand went farther down. Whatever it was he was searching for, he expected to find it between her thighs. Claire whined. "Chris, please… I…"

"I would have never believed it, Claire." Her brother's voice seemed close to break as he pulled out a tiny rag of cloth. "Until he showed me this." Her eyes widened in pain as Chris held up the tiny grey cotton panties — the ones she had let Albert Wesker take from her.

"No."

"You are sick, Claire. Sick! And you even fucked my Captain to hide it." Chris shook his head and kept watching his sister cry and beg, until Wesker suddenly grabbed her ponytail and jerked her off the chair. Claire dropped to her knees, whining. "I will let Captain Wesker take care of you, so you won't be a threat to Jill and our child."

What? Child? Her heart seemed to explode as she launched one last glance at Chris and caught sight of the huge womb of Jill Valentine instead. The brunette was lying on the floor with her legs spread wide and covered in sweat, about to give birth.

"It's a boy," she squealed happily and waved Claire goodbye, who was dragged over the floor by the professional, cold hands of Albert Wesker.

"Don't you worry, Miss Redfield," he told her in an almost comforting tone. "Once I am done with you, there won't be any room for your brother inside you. I will fill you up."

"No!" The shrill scream thundered through the room and swallowed everything as she jerked forward. It was easy, it was fast, and it didn't hurt. Nothing hurt anymore when she realized that it had all been a dream. Sweating and trembling, she looked around and recognized the familiar surroundings of her bedroom. It was silent around her, and a weak ray of moonlight shone through the window. The regular snoring in the next room told Claire that neither Jill nor Chris had heard the heartbreaking scream that had liberated her from the claws of her own subconscious.

"Thank god," she whispered to herself and raked her fingers through her sweaty hair before she crawled out of the bed and headed to the bathroom. A bit of cool water would help her relax.

The mirror returned the grotesque picture of a damaged soul. None of the previous nights had really been peaceful, as someone in the next room didn't know how to keep their hands in their own pants. However, this was the first time her sleep was reigned by a nightmare — a nightmare with Albert Wesker in the main role.

She knew all too well where it came from.

Once she'd understood that her efforts to keep Chris and Jill away from each other weren't doing herself any good, accepting the brunette in their home had become easier. So far, Claire had stopped sabotaging the little time Chris and Jill could spend together, not staying up until later than usual and not coming home when she was expected to be elsewhere. She had even spent the whole Saturday studying with her friend, Kelly, so the freshly-in-love couple could fondle and fuck freely all through the house.

Mom would have been so proud.

However, despite all the efforts, Claire still hated living with Jill, as she herself was reduced to be the third wheel in her own home. And Chris? Chris was too busy being happy to notice how ignored and left-aside his little sister really felt. Anyway, she could be patient. Claire would stay away from them, but always close enough to catch Chris when Valentine would drop him.

Because she would drop him someday— that was, if  _he_  didn't drop  _her_  first.

With Chris and his romances constantly on her mind, Claire had almost forgotten that there were things much worse than Jill Valentine's panties on her brother's bedroom floor and her collection of sex toys, lubes and condoms carelessly forgotten on his nightstand. Surprisingly. It hadn't been until Chris had come home on Tuesday night that she was bitterly reminded of her own sins.

"Wesker asked me if I was worried about you." That was his response to her question how his day had gone and she'd immediately felt her legs weaken — as if someone had blasted her knees away with a shotgun. The grimace on Chris' face had carved profound lines onto his beautiful forehead and the image had scared her to death. What had Wesker told him? Chris had come closer to her, serious and calm, until he'd blown out a breath. "Do you know what that means?" He'd begun to laugh sarcastically. "When Wesker asks about personal stuff, what he wants to say is that you haven't done your job well enough."

Claire had felt her eyeballs roll back into her head. Once Chris had passed her by after patting her shoulder, she'd noticed that she'd been holding her breath unconsciously. Jill had just come down the stairs, early enough to catch the last part of Chris' monologue about their captain.

"What have you done wrong today, Redfield?" She'd laughed and slapped his shoulder playfully, as if pissing off their Captain was a common task among S.T.A.R.S. members. "I remember the last time he did that to me. I had been late on Monday morning and he mentioned how happy my father had to be to receive my visit during the weekend. He's such an ass."

The shock had nearly killed her. Claire had checked her vital signs to make sure she was still alive. Wesker hadn't really asked about  _her_ , but about any distraction Chris could blame his low performance on. A pretty creepy thing to do for someone who kept her panties like a trophy. The couple had started joking, remembering all times they had been humiliated by their Captain, and Claire had tried to follow along, with the certainty that she wouldn't find rest that night.

She hadn't been wrong. The crazy nightmare was reminding her how deeply she was really stuck in crap currently. She'd let Wesker take advantage of the impure thoughts she had of her brother; trying to protect him from any evil that man could cause and offering her own innocence and sanity instead. And Chris would never find out how much she was sacrificing to keep him safe, because he  _could_  never know. Her struggle needed to remain a secret, or her nightmare would become painful reality — she herself the only victim.

Staring into the mirror, Claire rubbed over her shoulder and still felt the disgusting sensation of Albert Wesker's hand on her skin, right there where he'd touched her in her dream. All too real, as if her body had memorized the feeling of submission. It would be impossible to ever forget that. Fearing the nightmare would return, she would never sleep again — at least, not as long as Wesker was the Captain of the S.T.A.R.S. Alpha team. Once people found out what a psychopathic freak he was, he'd fall in disgrace and would get kicked out of the R.P.D., that was certain. It could take forever for that to happen, though, unless she investigated and found out what other crazy stuff the Captain was up to. Claire sighed; waiting seemed the only logical thing to do.

It was either that or kill him.

* * *

Wednesday went by as fast as a tortoise in winter. After the short night, Claire was barely able to stand and by lunchtime, she decided it was time to leave school earlier again as she didn't want to pass out in her biology class. Two more pills and she could have an afternoon nap, at least, and dinner was ready when Jill and Chris arrived home.

"That looks delicious! Thank you so much for taking care of us, Claire." Claire rewarded Jill's exaggerated gratefulness with the biggest portion of spaghetti, unconsciously hoping that the calories would get stuck somewhere on the perfect body of the brunette and that Chris would feel a little less attracted to her. Valentine, however, took the brimful plate as if she hadn't eaten a bit in a year. "Man, I'm starving."

Jill's apparent indifference regarding carbs and grease for dinner didn't particularly help ease her nerves that night. Claire stared down at her own plate with disgust until her unenthusiastic spaghetti-poking caught Chris' attention. Her bigger brother grabbed her nape a little harshly and made her look at him.

"What's wrong? Don't you feel well?" He asked her as he began to chew his spaghetti, but Claire managed to shake the subject off elegantly.

"I'm okay. Just tired," she lied. Shrugging, she started shoveling pasta into her mouth and forced a smile. "We have to hand in several projects this week."

Chris replied with another soft squeeze on her nape and a warm smirk, meaning that he was proud of her, but that he thought she was working too hard for a girl her age. He sent her to bed right after dinner, and Claire didn't even protest. Luckily, he and Jill were so tired from work that they went to sleep not long afterwards, too — not even caring about sex that time. It was Claire's chance to escape and go to Raccoon City to speak to Wesker again. Knowing Chris, he wouldn't wake up before the next morning, and Jill wouldn't just come into Claire's room if she got up at night, would she?

Once she heard the snoring in the other bedroom, Claire got up, showered quickly and dressed for another night out. A long-sleeved, black button up shirt and blue jeans tucked into her biker boots seemed inconspicuous enough for a ride to Raccoon. The reason why she slipped a short knife into her right boot was a mystery to herself. Anxious and unconvinced, Claire drove off into the night toward another unknown fate.

That night she learned that Albert Wesker did not live in the police station. Wesker was walking over the parking lot when she parked her bike. Claire's mouth went dry when she spotted the dark figure in the mist of the night. He was, as usual, in his S.T.A.R.S. uniform and sunglasses and he looked stressed out. Claire saw her chance to catch the Captain alone and sprinted after him.

Not knowing what exactly she was going to do or to say, she snuck through the darkness across the parking lot and reached the Captain next to a dark SUV. A newer model of a Jeep Grand Cherokee, she noticed perplexedly. She had rather pictured him driving a hearse.

"Captain Wesker," she called out and was immediately rewarded with one of his despising glances through the sunglasses on his nose.

"Miss Redfield." He sighed. "What is it this time? Am I not being nice enough to your brother?"

That statement took her a little by surprise. Nice? Did he even know what that meant?

"I... I thought…" she babbled and forced herself to stand his look. "How am I supposed to believe that you won't speak if you…?" The dramatic pause she used to catch her breath again seemed to annoy Wesker even more. As annoying him was probably the third most stupid thing after letting him catch her masturbating and after sleeping with him, she tried to proceed. "If you…"

"Miss Redfield," Wesker's deep voice interrupted her. "Can we make it quick, please?"

She blinked at him, right next to the car as his hand drew a circle, inviting her to keep speaking. Shivering, Claire cleared her throat.

"Can you please give me back what you took from me?"

A fresh breeze blew strands of her hair into her face and blinded her for a second. When Claire managed to see again, Wesker had moved to the other side of his vehicle and was now so dangerously close to her she could feel his breath condense on her forehead.

"Miss Redfield." The mocking way he spoke her name sent a shiver down her spine. "If I remember well, I gave you my word I would keep your secret safe. Have you come all the way to Raccoon City to call me a liar?"

So cold. How could he be so cold? Claire felt her heart pound harder as she bravely held his gaze. Lip shaking, she inhaled.

"No," she managed to respond in a voice that didn't sound like hers. Claire swallowed, forcing herself to stand still as Wesker seemed to run her over with his mere abeyant company. "But I think it would be better for both of us if no one could ever find the evidence in your possession." She cleared her throat, perceiving the slightest move of eyebrows on the blond's face. "People might… misunderstand."

What the hell was she doing? Claire nearly choked on the tension as she waited for Wesker to respond to the kind suggestion that sounded pretty much like a dangerous threat. The man chuckled.

"That would certainly be unfortunate."

The next second, Claire felt a sharp pain in her elbow. Without making a sound, Wesker had grabbed her forearm and swung her towards the vehicle. Her hands hit the glass first, in an attempt to stop her face from getting smashed against the frame, but it wasn't of much use as the blond effortlessly proceeded to pin her head against the cold window. Claire struggled. She tried to scream, but the shock sat so deep inside her that only small gasps left her lips. Caught between the cold vehicle and Wesker, there wasn't much she could do when the man began to slide his fingers down her thighs. He wouldn't…? There in the parking lot?

"So, have you come to threaten me, Miss Redfield?" the murmured darkly as he bent down and reached for the knife in her boot. "Or to attack me?"

Tears shot into her eyes under the hot breath of the S.T.A.R.S. Captain. What had she come for? Did she even know? Her voice trembled when she tried to reply.

"I…" She shook her head and made a tear roll down her cheek. Just a single one. She wouldn't grant him anything other than that. Swallowing hard, she continued. "That wasn't for you. It's self-defense, just in case. I… like to be prepared."

Wesker didn't move a muscle. In the dim shine of a crescent moon and from the corner of her eye, it was even harder to make out any emotion on his face. He grunted mistrustfully and Claire whimpered in fear. He would kill her. He would kill her and slice her to pieces and burn her. Maybe he would have sex with her corpse before that. Yeah, he looked like he was into necrophilia. She felt the pulsations of her heart in her whole body. Even when Wesker let go of her, she flinched under his move.

"Miss Redfield," he hissed and pushed her knife somewhere into his belt. "Go home." He started moving around the vehicle and to the driver's side again as Claire caught her breath. "You know? I don't approve of your brother's… how shall I call it?… Friendship… with Jill Valentine. It only distracts him from important things." He opened the door and glanced back at Claire, who was still hanging on the vehicle. "Imagine how carelessly he must be doing his job if he even neglects to take care of his own sister. I will have to share a serious word with him."

Claire watched as he got into the car. With a sound of despair and, before she knew where she was taking her courage from, she jumped towards the door and into the passenger's seat.

"Captain Wesker, please."

Wesker grunted, staring at her as if she'd reached the limit of irritating and released a sigh.

"Miss Redfield…"

She dared put a hand onto the steering wheel, almost caressing his fingers with hers. He didn't flinch nor move and Claire began to wonder if he could see anything through those sunglasses of his.

"Please, don't tell him. You know this isn't Chris' fault. I told you. Don't." She gasped for air and slowly removed her fingers from the wheel, crossing her hands on her lap. "Please. I'll do anything you want. Anything."

She'd expected him to make an offer or a request; or perhaps to tell her to leave him the fuck alone, it was obvious that he didn't particularly enjoy her company. Nothing like that happened. Instead, Wesker showed her again that he was anything but predictable, turning his head away as he turned the key and started the engine. There was barely time left to fasten the seatbelt before he left the parking lot and took the main road out of town, steering the vehicle towards the city limits.

The ride was silent and felt longer than it actually was, probably. Wesker drove the SUV steadily, without any rough moves or turns of the wheel. Claire kept waiting for him to say something, but the S.T.A.R.S. Captain used the silence as his particular way to torture her. Just when she was about to speak, Wesker drove out of the city and into the forest and Claire felt her stomach twitch. Was he going to kill her? Bury her somewhere under a tree? She swallowed as her heart began to hammer wildly in her chest. Why the fuck had she gotten into that car with him? As Wesker turned at a sign, leaving the road and driving right into the deepest wilderness, Claire began to shift in her seat.

"Easy, Miss Redfield," his husky voice rattled her awake. "You will be home safe, tonight."

She wasn't sure if she should believe him, but she allowed herself to relax a little. Gathering courage, she turned to him slowly and started to speak.

"You won't cut me into pieces just for fun?" she asked quietly and Wesker laughed.

"The fun is not worth the effort to hide it later," he replied, keeping his eyes on the forest in front. "Trust me."

Her eyes widened. A nervous smile crawled up her face as she turned away from him, looking through the window to her right. She wasn't sure if she would survive that night, as a tiny part of her had already died of fear.

Wesker parked his car next to a dark, large hole. Claire narrowed her eyes as she looked through the windshield onto it.

"Where are we?" she asked.

"This is a lake, Miss Redfield. You city kids nowadays don't know anything about nature anymore, do you?" he replied as he unfastened his seatbelt. "You believe chicken and pork is born without a head and that vegetables grow on plastic trays."

Claire lifted a brow and tried to stab him with her angry glance.

"I just don't recognize what I have in front because it's pitch-dark out there and the headlights of this thing are weaker than candles and, just for your information, I know and love everything about nature."

Wesker watched her rage. When she'd finished, he smirked in silence and got out of the car. Before she followed him, Claire took a deep breath and cursed herself. That hadn't been very intelligent, had it?

The big, dark hole was indeed a lake. The water made soft sounds as it lapped the shore playfully and it was so wonderfully calm out there that she'd actually have enjoyed the visit hadn't it been with Wesker out of all people in the world.

"What are we doing here?" Claire asked, rubbing over her shoulder. She should have brought her jacket.

"I think we were talking about your brother and how you'd do anything to keep me from talking to him about his sloppy behavior regarding his job and family ties." Wesker asked as he leaned against the door and spread his arms, pointing at the surroundings. Claire watched him attentively. "I thought you'd rather talk about it somewhere more private."

Claire swallowed under the heavy pressure of his words. No, he certainly hadn't brought her into the wilderness to simply talk to her. What had she promised him? Anything? Her knees began to tremble and her heart raced. Shyly scanning the surroundings, Claire searched for the inexistent eyes of strangers that could serve her as excuse to stop what she had started. There were none. They were completely alone out there except for the wildlife. Wesker had a strange concept of a private place, that was sure. Claire tilted her head and forced a smirk, trying to make it look seductive and playful, as if she wasn't as nervous and afraid as a kid on their first day in school, and she walked around the car. Wesker wasn't moving.

"You know that Chris is the best man you can get for S.T.A.R.S.," she whispered into his face as she dared put a hand onto his chest and she felt his heart beat, slow and strong. Wesker kept watching her from behind those sunglasses of his. "But I'm sure we can make a deal, can't we?"

She could make it. If she tried, she could buy his silence and save Chris' ass again. Maybe she could even get him a pay rise. Or she could get Valentine fired. As she spoke, and driven by an unknown force, she increased the pressure on his chest until Wesker let her push him against the car. Yes, she could do whatever she wanted. As the thrill of power overcame her Claire surprised herself with a conviction she couldn't understand and she feared she'd lose control over her acts. That had to be the Redfield spirit — the emotional, conflictive side of their father Chris had always been known for which let her keep her eyes steady on Wesker's face as her hand travelled down his abdomen. She was grateful for that temper, because one step closer was enough to press her body against his threateningly — and she didn't know who it was she was threatening anymore, Wesker or herself. Her breasts touched his chest and she quietly turned her head up. Her lips were now so close to his, she could nearly taste his scent on the tip of her tongue and the thought how easily she could kiss him almost frightened her. There was no reaction on Wesker's face, not a blink of an eye. Inhumanly cold; that's what he was, and Claire began to wonder if he would even let her kiss him if she ever made an attempt.

He didn't. He didn't even let her try. He grabbed her wrist once more, flipped her around and pressed her against the car again, letting her face him, this time. Claire panted in shock, wondering how he moved that quickly. He turned her face to his. Not to kiss her, of course.

"What have you come for, Claire?" His voice was so low and dark, she could barely hear him. Gone was the feeling of control and power. She swallowed hard and shivered. There were no words to describe how the fear of losing Chris was torturing and numbing her. To do herself a favor, she would stop the begging. She had begged enough. Claire reached for Wesker's hand instead and resolutely pushed it against her breast. It fit so perfectly into his palm, one could have thought he'd shaped her with his own hands.

"I told you," she whispered, forcing herself to remain steady. "Anything."

"Anything," he repeated, and Claire had to bravely watch his face as Wesker hooked his index fingers between the buttons of her shirt and ripped the clothing open carelessly. Her black bra came to show and Claire's look dropped to her chest. She shivered; Wesker smirked. A dense layer of goosebumps spread over her skin as the man's expert finger travelled from her collarbone over her sternum, finding another point to anchor right between her breasts. With surgical skill, he pulled her bra up, exposing her completely. Claire squealed as the man palmed one of her white breasts, squeezing it forcefully until her eyes fell shut.

A dark chuckle was his only reaction to her quivering as he stopped torturing her breast and reached for the button on her jeans instead. Quickly, he worked his hands into her panties and patted her hidden spot with the straight palm, rubbing over it carelessly until he pushed a finger into her. Claire couldn't hold back a moan, sensing how easily it went inside. Wesker blew out a breath of boredom.

"Seems like you're enjoying this a little too much, Miss Redfield."

Her eyes fluttered open. Too much? The man pulled his finger out of her pants and ran them over her lips to show her how wet she really was. God, she hated when he did that. It was disgusting and shaming and… more arousing than she'd ever want to admit. Her hand intuitively reached for his pants. She chuckled as she eventually found that she was, obviously, not the only one enjoying it.

Wesker didn't seem to like her reaction, though. The man looped his arm around her waist and pulled her to his right, opening the car door and flipping her around until he threw her into the driver's seat, head first. She fell onto her hands as her feet were still on the ground outside the car. Before she knew what embarrassing pose she was in, with her butt reaching out of the car, Wesker had already pulled her jeans down and pushed his bulge against her from behind.

"Oh god," she gasped at the sound of a zipper. What had she expected? That he'd brought her out there to just finger her again? No. He had come to torture her, to rape her and leave her screaming — out there, where nobody would ever hear her scream. Claire licked over her lips as she waited for the abuse to start again. Luckily, this time she knew that she only had to think of Chris and wait for Wesker to be done with her.

The sound of a plastic wrapper left her relieved. At least, she hadn't to remind him of the condom, it seemed. Good. This would spare her some time. She didn't have all night long, after all. Apparently, Wesker had a similar thought, as he didn't wait any longer to shove himself into her again.

He wasn't careful nor slow this time. He was quick, hard and unforgiving and he didn't seem to give a shit that this was just her second time.

It hurt.

Perhaps it even hurt more than the first time, and Claire couldn't hold back a couple of tears, letting them fall onto the seat cushion of Wesker's car as she felt she was being cut open from behind. How uncomfortably her sex stretched over the shaft inside her. Her fingers searched for support as she felt she'd faint, right there in the front seat. The angle Wesker had chosen was the worst as his dick seemed to drill into her like a jackhammer. It was rough and she squealed, trying not to scream.

Wesker stroked over her back, holding her down and comforting her at once.

"You will get used to it, Miss Redfield."

And it just sounded like another threat.

Naturally, she'd get used to it. He would fuck her until she was stretched as wide and open as a duck pond. She cried a little. She wouldn't scream though, forcing herself to gulp down the need to howl into the world what was happening to her. She was in some hidden spot outside of Raccoon City, with her pants around her knees and her breasts dangling freely as Albert Wesker was urging his dick into her again.

Again.

She whimpered. How had she gotten that far, constantly dropping her underwear for that man — her brother's Captain? No wonder her mother was giving her that disgraceful look every time she saw her. Hadn't she wanted to raise a decent young lady instead of a shameless whore? A soft whimper left her lips to the rhythm of the deep thrusts. She didn't deserve any better. She herself had caused all this and she was the one who needed to be punished for her careless behavior at that party — for putting her brother in danger. It could cost Chris everything he had worked for.

"Miss Redfield, relax." Lost in thoughts and numbed by the pain, Claire hadn't noticed that Wesker had stopped moving. His warm hands stood on her thighs, caressing them almost caringly. "You're dry." Claire began to move and turned her head towards the Captain. "Don't you feel that?"

She didn't know what he meant. Dry? Could that even be?

Wesker clicked his tongue.

"Touch yourself," he commanded. "And stop being so tense. Isn't this what you came for?" The last sentence was accompanied by a dark chuckle and she felt mocked and exposed. However, he was right. It was the best for both of them if she just did what he told her. Claire shifted her weight onto one arm and used the free hand to reach between her thighs, pressing her fingers onto the sensitive nub. It was swollen, and the touch wasn't entirely unpleasant. Picturing Chris was helping, too.

"Oh." Her loud moan was soon shushed by Wesker's evil laugh as he began to push into her again, a little slower this time. However, Claire didn't really care about it anymore. Eyes closed, she'd banned herself from the sickening reality as she imagined Chris was with her — there in the woods, where nobody would ever find them. There, where they could give in to their love and desire, far from every judgement.

Her thoughts seemed to be effective as Wesker slid into her with ease. The sound of his length gliding in and out was shamefully arousing and Claire felt the first sparks of intense pleasure run through her body. "Yes." She whined and rocked her hips back. The pain long forgotten, she eventually learned to find the pleasure in their doing and allowed herself to fully enjoy it. "Faster. Deeper. Please." Surprisingly, Wesker obeyed without any mocking reaction or a sarcastic comment. Hands holding her tight, he thrust so hard into her that it could have broken her, hadn't her inners long accepted and adapted to his grim assault. Claire moaned. "Oh god, yes!"

Wesker slid his hand up to her left breast and started tugging harshly, as she herself kept rubbing her clit. Chris. Chris was everything she thought of as she let those crazy spasms take control over her body. And before she even understood how, she was laughing. She was laughing to the rhythm of Albert Wesker's hips crashing into her from behind.

The thrusts went deeper and faster and Claire thought she'd lose her mind somewhere out there in the nothingness of the night. Wesker's gruff grunting told her he was close to the climax and she certainly didn't want him to finish without her coming first. Therefore, she started rubbing herself a little harder, soon reaching the orgasm she'd seek so desperately in the arms and groin of someone else. The man behind her needed just a second or two longer than herself.

Wesker was quick to pull his pants up and leave Claire hanging in the front seat as he walked around the vehicle and opened the door to the passenger's side. She gasped a second longer as she caught her breath.

"Get in the car, Miss Redfield," the blond murmured and pulled out a handkerchief from the glove compartment to clean himself. And Claire got up, stroking away the aching tension her back had been submitted to. "Now."

His nervous tone caught her off guard and Claire quickly pulled her pants and underwear back into place as she circled the car to climb into the passenger's seat. A little shocked, she found that some of the buttons on her shirt were missing.

"Damnit." Her curse was audible enough for Wesker to hear it, but he didn't react to her misery. He started the engine and proceeded to drive back to Raccoon City in a ride as silent as the one before. This time, Claire barely found time to think, as they reached the city after just some minutes. When they turned towards the station, Wesker began to grunt.

"How are you getting home?"

Claire looked at him a little surprised. Was he offering her a ride as if they'd been on some sort of date? Who did he think he was? What did he believe was giving him the right to play the caring lover? The thought somehow disgusted her more than anything she'd done that night and she quickly pointed into the direction where she'd parked her motorcycle before.

"I've come on my bike," she said coldly and her reply seemed to be enough to keep the man's conscience clean. He nodded in acceptance.

"You should get going, then. "Wesker pulled out her knife from his pocket and handed it to her. Claire sucked in a breath and grabbed for the weapon. "Trust me, you wouldn't want Brian Irons to find you half-dressed. If you know what I mean."

She didn't, but she knew she didn't want to find out either. Claire slipped her knife back into her boot and got out of the car. Before closing the door, she threw another shy glance back at Wesker. There were things they hadn't talked about yet.

"So…" she spoke in a whisper. "About my… you know?"

He had given her the knife back, why wouldn't he do the same with her panties? But what was the price she'd have to pay for it? What would he request from her from now on? The S.T.A.R.S. Captain sighed, obviously annoyed by her insistence. Patting his hand onto the steering wheel, he grunted.

"Next Wednesday night, 10 pm in the S.T.A.R.S. office. Don't be late. I will take care of your brother and…" The despising pause was underlined by an unaccepting turn of the head from the captain's side. "Valentine."

Claire gasped for air. So, Wesker wanted her to come back the following week — to do more of those horrid things, probably. Clenching her teeth in disgust, she nodded as he turned to her, inviting her to close the door.

"Alright."

"Now, go home, Claire." He started the car and turned the window down. "And don't ever follow me again. Understood?"

Claire nodded again and let him drive away, taking a deep breath once he was out of reach. She had hoped he'd give her underwear back, but the outcome of the night hadn't been that catastrophic. Wesker wouldn't tell Chris about her feelings as long as she did what he requested, would he? She had bought herself and her brother another chance. On weak knees, she stumbled back to her motorcycle as fast as she could. After all she'd heard about the Police Chief, she definitely didn't want to run into Brian Irons in the middle of the night.


	6. Common misconceptions

She hadn't driven the bike back into the garage after her trip to Raccoon. In order to avoid any traitorous, sleep-disturbing sounds, Claire had cut the engine on the last corner before turning into their street and had walked the motorcycle home. The roaring couldn't only have woken up Chris and Jill, but also those neighbors who didn't mind any distraction as long as it gave them a reason to argue with someone the following day. Old Mrs. Jefferson, from the other side of the street, for instance, had once accused Chris to have stabbed the tires of her car when he'd not even been home. People like her were certainly just waiting for another opportunity to irritate them, so it was the best not to call for any unneeded attention. Claire parked the bike in its usual spot and snuck into the house. Careful not to make a sound, she decided she'd have a glass of milk to calm herself down after her nightly escape. Maybe that would help her find the needed sleep.

When she turned into the kitchen, something shattered to the ground.

"Claire, oh. I'm sorry." It was Jill who was standing there in the darkness of the night, with tousled hair and an oversized pajama shirt — Chris' shirt, as Claire didn't fail to notice. The woman pressed her palm onto her chest as she panted at the redhead. "I didn't hear you come down the..." She stopped speaking and looked at Claire. "Stairs." She frowned. "Did you go out?"

The initial anger over Jill wearing Chris' pajamas was soon blown away, leaving her stuttering all kinds of nonsense, busy thinking of a good excuse she could tell Valentine. Kelly, maybe. Yes, she could have been studying with Kelly until —her eyes darted to the kitchen clock— 1 am.

"Were you with a boy?" Jill smirked smugly at her before she bent down to remove the shards of the glass she'd dropped. When she got up, she seemed to reconsider and frowned a bit. "Or a girl?"

Claire sucked in a breath and shook her head eagerly.

"I..." She sighed. "A boy." What a weird word for a creepy S.T.A.R.S. Captain in his late thirties. Claire licked her lips and narrowed her eyes at Jill, asking for complicity. "Don't tell Chris, please."

The older woman chuckled.

"I won't. You're old enough." She quirked an eyebrow and pouted a bit. "But I assume you're using protection, aren't you?"

Claire coughed up a little. That conversation was not only getting displeasing, it was ridiculous as well. She was a grown-up; there was no need to give her the sex talk. Just to finish off the subject as soon as possible, she nodded, eye-rolling, and put on a smile.

"Yes, we are."

Jill kept smiling at her and shrugged.

"Sorry," she muttered as she looked down. "I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable, but I don't have any family and I always wanted to have a sister to talk to."

Claire blinked at the brunette and felt a little sorry for her. Chris had told her that Jill's father, the only family she had, was in jail. She had never known what it meant to be a sibling and she was, strictly considering it, alone in the world. Claire forced a smile and shook her head.

"It's okay," she said and leaned onto the counter. "Just, please, promise that Chris won't find out. He wouldn't approve."

Jill stretched her little finger out.

"I pinky swear."

Claire giggled slyly and hooked her finger into Jill's, sealing their deal.

"Thank you."

* * *

Something about Jill's behavior changed once the brunette had found out about Claire's nightly escapes to her supposed boyfriend. Their common secret was reason enough for her to give the redhead hidden smirks and always be on her side when the Redfield siblings started to argue about unimportant stuff, like the choice what they wanted to watch on TV or what they'd have for dinner. Claire noticed the brunette more relaxed when they were together and she started to believe that she'd frightened the young S.T.A.R.S. Officer a bit. Had she actually been acting like a dangerous sociopath? Maybe she'd taken her jealousy a little too far and Jill was not the only one who feared her. Claire couldn't help but feel ashamed of her behavior, as she didn't recognize her usually nice self in those acts anymore, and she decided she'd be kinder to Jill and everyone else around her.

However, that was harder than she'd expected. The word she had given to Wesker was rasping at her nerves and causing her to be irritable and anguished most of the time, picking up pointless fights with anyone and anything. On Thursday morning, she yelled at her coffee mug after burning her fingertips on it and on Friday afternoon she had already used up her complete repertoire of swear words. Chris played the angry older brother pretty well, complaining whenever she cursed, but Claire knew that, deep inside, he was proud of his little sister as she was just following his own footsteps.

On Monday, a long-awaited notification made its way into their mailbox and Claire nearly choked on the revelation when she brought in the mail. Among bills and advertisement, there was also a message from...

"College." The dreaded letter had finally arrived. Claire walked absentmindedly into the house, staring at the letter that contained her future and that burnt in her hands like hot steel. Jill was in the kitchen and looked up, greeting her when she saw the redhead step through the door.

"Hey, Claire, what's up?" Once aware of how distant the redhead looked, Jill got up and began snapping her finger in front of the girl's face until she received the deserved attention. "Everything alright? Bad news?"

After another moment of silence, Claire eventually shrugged her shoulders. She was shivering. It was a letter from the college she'd been hoping to hear from ever since she'd sent out the application letters. It had taken them eight weeks to reply to her. Eight weeks! Kelly had gotten her confirmation after only five. That meant they rejected her, didn't it? Jill had a look at the mail and put a hand onto Claire's shoulder. It was warm.

"I see. Want me to open it for you?"

And Claire's eyes watered as she glanced at the brunette.

"Would… would you?" she shrugged shyly. "Please, don't tell Chris if it's negative."

Jill smiled and sliced the envelope open with one finger. Once unfolded, she began to read, a serious expression dressing her face. Those were the longest moments Claire had lived in years. The last time she'd had that same feeling had been the day they had been waiting for news about their parents' condition after their tragic accident. Back then, the outcome had been the worst possible and it had nearly destroyed both herself and Chris. Admittedly, no one's life depended on this notification, but if this went wrong, it was  _her_  fault. Her fault alone. Claire bit her lip as she watched Jill read attentively.

She should have studied harder.

Jill looked back at her.

Maybe if she had spent more time rereading the letter she'd sent out to the colleges and universities, they would have accepted her.

"You're in."

Chris would be so disappointed.

_Wait._

Claire blinked, her questioning glance impacting on Valentine's face.

"What?"

Jill smiled widely.

"Congratulations, Claire."

As time had stretched earlier, now it equally just snapped back together in a second and seemed to hit Claire directly in the face. She felt her lips turn into a wide smirk — so wide it nearly hurt.

"I'm in?" She asked in disbelief and Jill nodded eagerly. The brunette took hold of her and let Claire scream her euphoria all through the house. She jumped up and down, Jill with her. "I'm going to college!"

Unaware of the world around them, the women hopped through the living room like two ping-pong balls, laughing happily until they ran out of air. Once they'd come to stop, Claire embraced Jill tightly. It was meant to be a silent apology for having hated her in secret ever since she'd moved in with them.

"Thank you, Jill." Her voice was weak as she expressed her gratefulness. "Thank you so much."

It wasn't only because she'd opened the letter for her. It was because she was there to love Chris and to take care of him once Claire would be gone; because she tried to be a good friend and an older sister to the redhead, even though she had to feel uncomfortably unwelcome in her company. It was because she had promised she wouldn't tell Chris about the imaginary boyfriend with sunglasses and, so far, she hadn't. However, Valentine was oblivious to most of the reasons.

"I didn't do anything." Her smile showed the most perfect row of pearly teeth. How beautiful Jill was. She would, someday, make precious little Redfield children with Chris. "This is all your merit. You did this, Claire."

And as Jill squeezed her hand tightly, Claire started to believe that the brunette was the best thing that had ever happened to her brother. The lock behind them made an announcing sound and caused them to turn around. Chris came in, waving a puzzled look through the house. "Hey! What's happening here?"

Claire shook her head a little and smiled widely.

"Chris!" She grabbed the confirmation letter from Jill's hand and held it up triumphantly. "I'm going to college."

Chris blinked at her and smirked cockily.

"Hey, that's great, but…" Eyes narrowed, he tilted his head. "What made you think you wouldn't?"

That took her breath and voice away. She just stared at her brother, who had never had the slightest doubt about her suitability for any college she'd like to attend. She ran into Chris' arms and hugged him tightly.

"Thank you, Chris, for believing in me."

And Chris laughed as he spun her around until she was dizzy. Claire giggled like a child in her brother's arms, holding on to his wide, strong shoulders as the surroundings blurred and danced around them. Once he'd sat her back onto the floor, Chris caressed over her hair.

"How about we go out for dinner tonight?" he suggested, smiling at his sister. "We have to celebrate! You choose the place." Claire smiled widely at the thought that she and Chris would be going out for dinner again. She nodded in excitement and was about to reply to her brother with another hug, but Chris turned back to Jill. "What do you think? You're free tonight, aren't you?"

Jill shrugged, certainly aware that Claire's academic achievements were something she wasn't part of.

"This is Claire's night. I don't want to disturb," she explained timidly and glanced at the redhead, as if she was asking her for permission. However, Chris laughed at her.

"Oh, come on! You don't disturb," he replied. "You're part of the family. Isn't she, Claire?"

Claire couldn't hold back a disappointed sigh. She would have loved to go out with Chris alone, but after Jill had been such a great friend to her, telling her not to come would have been simply rude. She'd promised to behave. Jill was the woman who seemed to make Chris happy, and whoever achieved that was more than worthy to be considered part of the family. Eventually, Claire smiled and walked back to Jill.

"Oh, Jill, please. Come with us tonight. You'll see we can behave in public." Claire turned back to her brother and gave him a bratty smirk. Chris laughed, and Jill seemed to give in.

"Alright." She nodded and turned around. "I will take a quick nap, if you don't mind. Wesker had me writing a ton of reports this morning and I need to recover before I can concentrate on dinner with you two."

As she strolled away laughing, Claire turned back to Chris. She expected a satisfied reaction in him, but what she found was a face full of lust and desire. He was staring at Jill's butt like some sort of perv, with dilated pupils and that ridiculous smirk as wide as his face. She should have found it amusing, but it just made her heart ache for him, as it reminded her that he would never look at her like that.

To bear with the sadness of the moment, Claire allowed herself a sassy comment.

"Stop the drooling, Chris," she spat out among laughter. "I cleaned the floor yesterday."

He took a breath and shook his head before he launched a shy glance at his sister.

"Sorry," he huffed and rubbed his neck. "I'm just really into her, you know?"

Claire blinked warmly.

"Are you in love, big brother?"

Chris rolled his jaw. He was usually an open book when it came to emotions; uncontrollable and intense. But now that it was the most important emotion of them all, the huge, brave Chris Redfield became as timid as a little kid. Eventually, he shrugged a shoulder.

"I should know if I was, shouldn't I?"

Now it was Claire's turn to shrug.

"Maybe." And  _maybe_  meant that maybe everything wasn't lost after all.

* * *

They went to Raccoon City that night, as Jill had suggested a nice little place not far from the station. Chris hadn't been amused to be that close to work on his free night, not speaking of Claire, of course, who feared they'd run into Wesker. However, as Jill had spoken so well about the place, and even though it was Claire who had to choose the restaurant, they eventually decided that the pizzeria was the best place to have dinner together.

Admittedly, it was. They shared three different types of pizza and all kinds of other Italian snacks and they almost rolled out of the restaurant after dinner as they couldn't even walk properly anymore.

"I'm going to explode. It was so good. Thanks for the suggestion, Jill," Chris said laughing as he laid his arm around his sister. "Had a good time, Claire bear?"

The redhead rolled her eyes.

"Don't call me that."

Jill laughed, holding her belly.

"Oh, guys, thanks for taking me with you. I had a great night."

Chris and Jill laughed loudly as they all walked back to the car. Claire watched the couple, a little annoyed by their rapport. For years, it had been just Chris and her, and they'd been alright. Now Jill Valentine was pushing herself into her tiny family, altering the close bond they had. Claire pouted. She was wearing the leftovers of their dinner while Chris and Jill were holding hands. Saddened, she bit her lip. They looked so cute together that one could believe they had been cut out of a magazine. As Chris suddenly turned to Jill and pecked her mouth, Claire's heart shrunk a bit.

He was happy.

He was truly happy and it was alright. Claire had always wanted him to be happy, so Jill's presence in his life was more than welcome. They laughed a lot together; they had common interests and listened to tales about those they didn't share; they slept in the same bed and had sex. It looked pretty much like a romantic relationship, Claire noticed with a heavy heart. To her, life had been complete when they'd been living alone, but now she knew that Chris had been missing something. Now he had found Jill, who completed him in a way Claire never would. In a love story like theirs, there was usually no room for the little sister and she sometimes feared that Chris would choose Jill over her if he ever needed to.

Just in case, she wouldn't make him choose.

Chris unlocked the car. He and Jill took the driver's and passenger's seat; Claire climbed into the backseat behind her brother. When he was about to start the engine, Jill called out.

"Down! Wesker!" She grabbed Chris' neck and pulled him down. Out of shock, Claire's reaction was stunningly identical to theirs.

"Why are we hiding?" Chris whispered, laughing a bit. "It's our night off."

And Jill began to giggle.

"You never know what he will come up with to make you get back to work," she hissed. "Once, he made me stay until midnight to rewrite a report I had handed in. My shift had ended at eight." She slowly lifted her head to see if she spotted their Captain. "He always acts like there was a real urgency in this godforsaken place."

Claire eyed Jill. The brunette was laughing, but she sensed the unease the chance to meet their Captain in their free time was causing her. Anyway, she herself didn't want to come across Wesker either. Hadn't he told her not to follow him ever again?

"What is he doing out here? Does he live here?" Chris asked suddenly, but Jill just shrugged.

"I have never seen him out of the station. But I don't think someone like Wesker would live in this district of the town. This is a place for more modest people."

Claire listened carefully. Apparently, Jill's opinion about Wesker didn't differ much from her own, and the Captain's words came back to her.

_She's had half of the RPD, and she sucks cock like a professional._

And a thought she hadn't considered yet came to her all of a sudden. Jill had slept with Wesker, too, hadn't she? Claire bit her lip, trying to hide how disgusted she felt.

"Who knows in what dark affairs that guy is involved," Chris muttered. "Maybe he buys the poor people's children and eats them for dinner."

Jill laughed nervously.

"Maybe he patrols the streets at night for fun," she said. "I think he is the kind of man who likes to control things."

Claire breathed nervously in the backseat, nodding at Jill's comment. Wesker liked to be in control, that was clear. Chris lifted his head a little to see better and soon chuckled.

"He's gone," he exclaimed and the three of them moved back into a more comfortable position. "Phew. Who would have guessed that spying on our Captain in our free time would be more exciting than working with him on a case?"

Jill rolled her eyes and laughed.

"Please, we're not spying on him," she said, her hand tightly pressed onto her chest. "But I agree that it's more exciting than what we've done so far in our jobs."

Claire listened attentively to their conversation. Chris usually didn't talk about his job at S.T.A.R.S. He'd always claimed he didn't want to tell her horror stories and that the information was classified anyway, but, apparently, their daily tasks and assignments weren't really going to be dangerous. She huffed out a silent laugh. What had they expected to find in a town called Raccoon City?

Chris started the engine and began their ride home, while Claire tried not to die of shame in the backseat.

* * *

Finding Wesker on the street in the middle of the night wasn't precisely a nice way to end a successful day. After their encounter on Monday night, the nightmares had decided to return and disturb Claire's sleep again, reminding her of the test that was waiting for her in the S.T.A.R.S. office on Wednesday. The sickening thoughts and dreams of Albert Wesker using her body wouldn't let her rest, causing her to toss and turn all night long, until she'd eventually fall asleep about half an hour before the alarm clock would ring. On Tuesday, Claire had taken a couple of sleeping pills before going to bed and had been able to sleep a few hours more than the previous night, but she felt anything but rested when she got up on Wednesday.

If she was lucky, she'd doze off during her meeting with the S.T.A.R.S. Captain.

The thought didn't particularly soothe her nerves. It kept stinging in her abdomen as if someone was kneading her inners with both hands. Claire stumbled into the bathroom in pain, hoping a hot shower would help her relax and shake off those evil thoughts for the rest of the day. When she undressed, she found out that the pain had nothing to do with the expectations of her appointment that night, but was just something that came with a grown-up female body.

"Shit," she hissed at the dark stains in her underwear. Was it already time for her to get her period again? The dates on the little calendar that hung in the bathroom for that precise purpose told her it had been exactly twenty-eight days since her last period and that the stupid bleeding wasn't just giving her a surprise visit to tell her to calm down. Apparently, she had been too absorbed by other stuff, like dealing with Chris' love life and fucking his Captain, to notice how time was passing by.

Claire sucked in a breath as she became aware that her period was a huge inconvenience for whatever Wesker would want from her that night. She was in pain and bleeding and the sheer thought of getting anything shoved into her was giving her nausea. Maybe Wesker would be disgusted, too, she thought as she stepped into the shower and let the stream of hot water pour down on her. A little afraid of his reaction, Claire decided she needed to speak to the Captain to warn him about her current condition.

Ideally, before their appointment that night.

* * *

She stood in the phone booth, counting the coins she had available and thinking of the best way to make the call as short as possible. She had decided to call Wesker at the station, hoping to talk herself out of the commitment without pissing the man off. Pissing him off was the least she wanted to do, as the Alpha Team Captain didn't only know very intimate details about her — he also had evidence to prove just how desperate she was to hide them. Thinking of the cute little cotton panties she'd so urgently want to recover, Claire pushed the coins into the device and dialed the number of the Raccoon City Police Station. Hopefully, she wouldn't encounter any troubles to speak to the Captain of S.T.A.R.S.

"Raccoon Police Department. Officer Pratchett speaking. How can I help you?"

Claire couldn't hold back a shy smile as she recognized the name. Cory would help her get through to Wesker easily.

"Uhm, hello, Cory," she stuttered, using his first name to remind him of their first meeting a couple of weeks before. "It's Claire, Claire Red. We met when I visited Captain Wesker some days ago." Leaving him time to think and remember her, she paused.

"Oh, yes, of course, Miss Red." The officer's sunny voice was enlivening. This would go well. "How can I help you? Do you need me to put you through to S.T.A.R.S.?"

Claire giggled. That had been almost too easy.

"Yes, please. I need to speak to Albert Wesker again," she added a soft beg to her petition, but Cory would certainly help her without asking for any more details.

"Sure, wait a minute, I'll put you through!" And even before Claire could mutter a quick  _thank you_ , the line clicked and the ringing tone beeped into her ear. Great! Cory deserved a hug from her next time she'd be in the station. Her heart beat harder as she waited for How would he react? Wesker was a busy man and probably not alone in the office, so his response wouldn't be very explicit. Anyway, she'd just wait and see what would happen. The line clicked again.

"S.T.A.R.S." Claire froze. That. Was. Not. Wesker. "Captain Wesker's office." No, it was not Wesker who had picked up the phone and was now waiting for her to say something.

It was Chris.

"Hello? Anybody there?" His tone was cheerful and carefree. Why in the world would Chris take a call that was transferred directly to the office of his Captain? And how the fuck hadn't she thought about that possibility before? Claire swallowed. She couldn't just pretend she was someone else, could she? Chris would recognize her voice. Perhaps coughing and whispering would make her voice sound raspy enough for Chris not to find out it was her. But what message would she give him anyway?  _Young man, tell your Captain that he can't fuck your sister tonight because she's bleeding_ , didn't sound quite convincing. An impatient breath was blown through the line from the other end. "Dude, you're fucking with the wrong man. If the Captain finds out you're pulling phone pranks on him, you can consider your career in Raccoon over."

And he laughed. Chris was laughing, thinking he was dealing with some prank caller, probably from inside the station. How could he know that it was his sister on the other end and that she was currently dying? Unable to speak, Claire hung up, causing the unspent money to shatter into the coin box. What was she going to do now? She could spend her whole afternoon at that pay phone, trying to call again and again until Chris would stop taking calls that weren't for him. But she'd have to disturb poor Cory again. That was if he was the one who'd take her call the next time. It could be any other Officer on duty that day and she'd risk being discovered. No, it was better she didn't try to call again. Claire leaned against the glass of the booth, cursing silently. She would have to go back to Raccoon that night and talk to Wesker personally.

* * *

Wesker had kept his word and had taken care of Chris and Jill that night, sending them out to patrol the streets like ordinary police officers, as Chris complained when he gave his sister a call to tell her they wouldn't be home for dinner. Hopefully, their other team members would be elsewhere, too, as most if not all of them still remembered Chris' little sister from the party in the hotel. Not to speak of Barry, of course, who was the closest of friends to Chris and herself. After cooking dinner and leaving most of the fried chicken in the fridge for later, Claire swung herself onto her motorbike and drove, once more, to Raccoon City.

Avoiding the looks of the officers at the reception was easier than she had thought, as the young men were busy looking up stuff on the Internet. Technology was decreasing the intelligence of mankind at a frightening pace. Despite having been pretty nervous the first time she'd come, Claire still remembered the way to the S.T.A.R.S. office through the library and the long, dark corridor. She was in a grey sweater she hadn't worn in years and that stretched now a little too much over her breasts. On her legs, she wore dark pants and biker boots. The laundry wasn't done yet and there wasn't anything more comfortable available in her wardrobe. When she reached the door, she knocked loudly, waiting for Wesker's invitation to come in.

She kept waiting. Nothing happened.

Claire took a deep breath and pouted. He had said Wednesday, hadn't he? He had said S.T.A.R.S. office, right? He had said 10 pm. Claire checked her watch, thinking that she'd been a little too early, but the hand jumped to the first minute after the twelve right in front of her eyes. She couldn't have been more in time. She sighed and decided to knock again. Maybe he hadn't heard her.

After her knuckles impacted against the door again, she heard something move behind her.

"Miss Redfield." Claire turned to the presence and stared into Wesker's shiny glasses. "You will have to excuse me," he explained in a calm tone. "Irons doesn't understand the meaning of an  _appointment at ten_."

Claire smiled sarcastically.

"So, in the end you're the one who was late. I guess that means I win," she pointed out and Wesker, who was pulling out the key to the office, stopped moving a second and glanced at her. "Does that give me any extra advantages?"

Rewarded with an annoyed sigh, Claire decided she'd stop any needless provocation.

"Miss Redfield," Wesker said as he leaned to open the door. "If you believe that the first ones will always be the winners, you're wrong. Not being late is a matter of respect." With those words, he pushed the door open.

Once they crossed the threshold and Claire stood in the S.T.A.R.S. office again, all her courage was blown away. She had returned to the place where she'd had her first sexual encounter and she somehow could still smell Wesker and herself in that room. Not much had changed since then, she noticed, as Wesker closed the door behind her and turned the key. On a silent sole and almost trembling, she followed the blond into his office and towards his desk, where he took a seat. Claire kept standing, watching the Captain as he removed some papers from the surface. Did that mean he wanted to fuck her on the desk again? That wouldn't be a good idea that night.

The man grunted a little.

Busy ripping open drawers and cursing quietly, it took him a while to turn his attention back to Claire. Eyebrows jumped up as he tilted his head down and gave her a curious glance over the sunglasses. "Won't you take a seat, Miss Redfield? I promise it'll be just a minute."

Unusually weak on her knees, Claire was thankful for the offer and dropped onto the chair in front of Wesker's desk as the man proceeded in his search for whatever was missing. The silent indifference he showed her was irritating, but Claire wouldn't complain any further about his treatment. Too sharp was the feeling of guilt about the stains in her panties that morning. Fearing that hiding the truth from him would not only be impossible, but also punished afterwards, she decided it was better she'd let him know as soon as possible.

Lowering her voice, Claire leaned over the desk.

"Maybe I should tell you that... I'm on my period." Something about her shy whisper made the man look up from the drawer and nod.

"A very healthy condition for a young lady," he muttered as he pulled out a tiny key on a silver chain from the drawer and Claire believed to catch a smirk on his face. Was he thinking of banging her while she was bleeding? Her eyes fell shut in disgust as she shook her head.

"I mean," she continued. "I don't feel comfortable sleeping with you tonight."

For a second, Claire believed she had caught Wesker off guard, as he seemed to search for a proper reply to her shy attitude. The Captain eventually crossed his hands upon the desk and stared at her.

"Miss Redfield. What exactly do you believe you are here for?"

Claire shifted uncomfortably in the seat as she tried to avoid Wesker's stabbing gaze. What a stupid question. She knew he had made her come to fuck her again, but it wasn't her fault that the female body decided to bleed its inners out once a month, was it? She shrugged, looking around timidly.

"Can't I come back another day?" she asked, shattering, before Wesker blew out a breath and got up.

"There's no need for you to come back, Miss Redfield," he muttered as he walked around the desk. Claire felt her heart sag into her bowels. She didn't need to come back? How could he be so melodramatic? What was wrong about waiting a little longer? Before she knew what exactly she was doing, Claire jumped onto her feet, catching the Captain before he could even reach the door. She pressed herself against his toned chest, her hands fisted tightly in his uniform.

"Wesker, don't!" She howled, blocking his way out. "Come on, this is not my fault. Please, let me... make it up to you some other day." She would do whatever it took to assure he wouldn't harm Chris, nor tell him her secret. Wesker sighed annoyedly, but before he could dismiss her for good, a thought came to her. What had he said once? Jill was good at what? Holding back a first gag of disgust, Claire slowly slid to her knees in front of the Captain, ripping another grunt from his lips. "Maybe, like this?"

The man snorted indignantly at her insistent offer. Claire didn't care if he feared her teeth on him. She wouldn't just let him get rid of her that easily. Her tongue ran nervously over her lips, showing him how serious she was about her deal. Wesker took a deep breath and sighed, before his right hand started caressing caringly over her forehead.

"Do you think you can handle that, Miss Redfield? This is not a piece of chewing gum, you know?" He was so calm, serious and so, so mean. Claire gulped down the knot in her throat.

"I won't bite you," she hissed, still a little disgusted by what she was about to do. Her hands shivered as they began to rip furiously on Wesker's belt and her look drove back up to meet his. "Also, you will surely tell me how to do it the right way."

And she believed she'd spotted a nod on him as she undid his belt with a tight grip on the leather. Wesker didn't move. He let her unzip his pants and pull down his dark underwear until his member popped out and stared right into her face. It was long, thick and meaty, with a pink head covered in a shiny, wet layer, and the sheer smell of it gave her nausea. Apparently, he liked the idea of her mouth around him. Claire squealed and took his length into her right hand, launching a begging look up to his face.

"Guide me," she said and waited for him to respond.

Wesker cleared his throat.

"This needs saliva," he hissed as he drew back the skin from his hardened tip. "Lick your lips first, then the head. Be generous, Miss Redfield. And be careful with your teeth."

She nodded and wetted her lips before opening her mouth to him. Taking in just the tip, she licked off his salty flavor, already holding back another gag of disgust.

_'Picture it's Chris,'_  she told herself again and closed her eyes. It always helped; it would help this time, too.

Claire ran her tongue over the whole, round head of his until it was bathed in her saliva. Wesker hummed approvingly and pushed himself a little farther into her mouth.

"There is a common misconception about speed," he explained darkly as he watched Claire struggle with the length. "Faster doesn't mean better, especially not at the beginning. So, don't underestimate the quality of slow moves."

Claire breathed in through her nose, noticing the scent of sweat emerging from his crotch right in front of her nose. It aroused her enough to moan a little around his member and he pushed her farther down. She nearly cried out when his head hit her throat and caused her to gag. Tears started to flow. The pressure was cutting her breath.

"Good. Keep using your tongue, Miss Redfield, " he said, holding her head in place until bile threatened to rise. Claire shifted and hit her palms against his thighs, pushing herself back. He eventually let go of her and his tip popped out of her mouth. She panted.

"I couldn't breathe," she whined, recovering her breath and voice as she looked up. Wesker smirked.

"I know." He muttered and held his shaft up again, pointing it at her as a silent invitation to continue.

She blew out a breath and opened her mouth again, taking him back in as deep as she could.

"Tongue. And put your hands around the root or the testicles."

Fuck. He wanted her to touch his balls. Claire tried to think of Chris again, of the amazing blowjobs she could give him if he just let her, and of how easily she would learn everything if it was him teaching her. However, she would please the Captain as he wished. Her hand was cold when she reached into his pants and touched him, but he didn't flinch. She looked at him in surprise, and he was staring back at her. He put his hand back onto her head.

"Not bad, Miss Redfield. Not bad. Now, move up and down. A little faster, if you want."

Claire kept licking, sucking and twirling her tongue over his dick, doing exactly what Wesker was telling her. She gagged, she choked and she thought she would die there. And, even so, the Captain didn't react. After another deep throated stitch, Claire forced her head back and let the head pop out of her mouth. Her hand kept stroking him as her eyes jumped to his face.

"Don't you like it? Are you sure I'm doing it right?" She innocently furrowed a brow, awaiting another punishing comment about her performance from the Captain. Chris would always moan loudly when he was with Jill. "I mean... men usually... say something, don't they?"

Wesker clicked his tongue impatiently.

"You don't look like you know what men usually do, Miss Redfield," he scoffed and insulted her. "There is no need to be loud to enjoy it, especially in a place like this. Chris probably doesn't know about it, but people can have sex with class and elegance."

He pushed his sunglasses up — a tiny little, just enough for her to see his eyes — and Claire saw how much he was really enjoying it. Nobody had ever looked at her like that. Wesker was watching her with the same expression Chris had given Valentine the day before. It was a look full of craving and it invoked a fulfilling sensation of victory inside her chest. Yes, he was enjoying it indeed, and it made her feel proud and powerful. Claire smirked a little as Wesker put his shades back into place. She rolled her jaw and opened her mouth to him again, letting him show her, not long afterwards, how classy he considered orgasms had to be. His member grew enormously thick, it throbbed and twitched and before she could even think of it, Wesker shot his cum into her mouth and just made her gag again. He didn't say a word. He breathed deeply and grabbed her head to hold her tight around him as he came.

Claire cried out of shock. He was bitter, salty and slimy and Wesker was forcing her to keep sucking him until the last drop reached her tongue. Blowjobs were disgusting, she thought, as the Captain pulled his tip out of her mouth and glared at her.

"And now you can decide if you want to spit it out or to swallow."

He was almost laughing at her as he spoke. Claire shivered. After gathering some more saliva in her mouth to dilute the sperm, she closed her eyes and forced the mix down her throat in disgust. The bitterness remained on her tongue, and Wesker was still staring at her.

"Pretty decent," he praised, receiving a hateful glance from the redhead, who stumbled onto her feet again and wiped her mouth. Damn, she needed a drink now.

Claire's icy look hit the S.T.A.R.S. Captain as he zipped his pants and turned to a metal cabinet with drawers in the corner. With the tiny key he had been holding all the time, he opened the first drawer and pulled out a tiny package.

"I guess this is yours." Claire turned her head to the object Wesker was handing her and sucked in some air. Her panties. He was giving back her panties, delicately folded and placed into a tiny plastic bag with the word  _evidence_ written onto it. She grabbed the plastic bag in a hurry and pushed it into her pocket, not daring ask what he had been doing with the content. Anxious eyes jumped to his face as she pouted a little at the unexpected surprise.

"Thank you."

Wesker nodded and walked around his desk. Claire sank back onto the chair and replayed the previous minutes in her head, trying to understand what had happened exactly. He had given her underwear back. Just like that. She thumbed over the bag with the valuable content, losing herself in thoughts. When she looked up again, Wesker was immersed in the reading of some papers, ignoring her presence in the office. There was nothing Claire hated more than being ignored.

"You know?" she whispered. "I will go to college."

Wesker hummed as he kept reading.

"So?"

Claire smiled a little. So busy he seemed, he was still listening to her.

"Yes. I got the confirmation letter yesterday," she explained. As Wesker didn't react, she kept talking. "I will study Art History at the end of summer." She eyed the blond, who didn't seem to give a damn.

"Why not science?"

He didn't even look at her as he spoke. Science? He probably wasn't talking about Social Sciences, she concluded. Claire bit her lower lip as she thought a little and eventually shrugged.

"I prefer Art History."

That made Wesker chuckle. Good. It looked like she'd given the right answer. Satisfied, Claire turned back to the bag in her hand.

"This also means that I will be off to college soon." Claire watched his face carefully and Wesker sighed. Apparently, unlike two minutes prior, he considered her presence irritating. Checking him thoroughly, Claire reconsidered that idea. Maybe he had never really stopped finding her irritating.

"What are you trying to say, Miss Redfield?" He hadn't even looked up from the report, busy being the creepy butler of Count Dracula. A strange tickle crawled up her stomach as she searched for the right words to say. She took a deep breath and cleared her throat.

"I mean that I have less than four months here." Somehow, she managed to speak in a strong tone, wishing Wesker would be impressed by the guts that stupid eighteen-year-old was showing to the S.T.A.R.S. Captain. He wasn't.

"I see," he said, shoulder-shrugging and waved to the exit. "I think you can go now."

What was that? What did that mean beyond the fact that he was inviting her to leave him working? After fulfilling her wish to get her property back, his sudden disregard enraged her unexpectedly much. What had he called her the last time they'd been there? Unripe?

She jumped up and threw her hands onto the desk, blowing an expression of surprise onto the Captain's face.

"I can learn!" She nearly yelled her words at the man, whose only reaction was another one of those silly tilts of the head indicating that he wanted her to clarify. At least, she knew he was listening. "I mean… I thought that… maybe…" She could become the best, so Wesker wouldn't get tired of her. "You could teach me everything you… like." Maybe she could even become as good as Jill. "So, I can do it… to you."

Perhaps she could become better than Jill.

Wesker's eyebrow jumped up. He stared at her for what felt like an eternity or two and Claire tried to hold his gaze by holding the one of her own reflection in his sunglasses. She'd have paid for knowing what was going on in that creepy head of his. After a deep breath and what looked like an incredulous headshake, Wesker crossed his hands over the desk.

"Friday, next week," he eventually responded. "Same time, same place."

A shy smile popped onto Claire's lips as she realized he was accepting her offer. Yes, she would learn. Wesker would teach and train her until she was ready to confront anything; until she knew how to please anyone. And if Chris ever…

Wesker cleared his throat and pulled her off the forbidden thought. What the hell was she thinking anyway? As if Chris would ever do anything like that to his sister. Tongue flicking over her lips, she turned to the blond at the desk as he cleared his throat.

"The key is in the lock," he spoke in a dark voice. "Or do I have to teach you how to open a door first?" Claire pouted. Would she ever get used to his constant offences and sarcastic observations? Wasn't there any point where she'd just stop caring?

"Got it." Once turned, she dragged herself towards the exit. From the door, she saw Wesker nod in satisfaction before he turned his attention back to the papers on the desk. "Good night, Captain Wesker." Claire unlocked the door and ripped it open, disappearing into the dark corridors of the R.P.D.


	7. Unkissed

"No, wait! Stop!" Deep gasps followed Claire's cry as she tried to overcome the sharp, cutting pain. How could something hurt that fucking much? And she had believed the first vaginal sex had been painful. Her fingers curled around the edge of the desk, as stiff as the rest of the bent body that hung over the surface. She gasped until she heard the man behind her sigh.

"Miss Redfield, will you please keep your voice low? You're the one who asked for this." His grip around her hips was harsher than usual, telling her how much her attitude displeased him. Claire clenched her teeth.

"Well, now I ask you to stop!" She turned her head around, threatening the man until he let go of her body.

"I told you that it wasn't the right time." It was almost heartbreaking how much he cared for the integrity of her body parts after just trying to kill her through vertical impalement. Sure, he now had to keep exposing her as the innocent, inexperienced girl she was. Claire pulled her pants up as she watched the man sit down at the desk again.

"And when is the right time?" She asked impatiently, raising her brows to demand an explanation. Wesker turned his face back to hers.

"Well, if you'd express your wishes a bit earlier, we can find a way to make it more comfortable for you." He clicked his tongue and leaned back in the chair. "I already told you that showing up here with the will to practice things you've heard Jill Valentine do to your brother is not a good idea."

Rolling both her jaw and eyes, Claire nodded at his sharp attempt to offend her. Maybe she had indeed been a little too hot-headed, but there were certainly other ways to tell her that he was right and she wasn't.

"Fine. No anal sex tonight," she hissed and lowered herself carefully onto the chair, crossing her legs and arms and starting another staring contest with Wesker, who sat in front of her. As usual, she was fighting that contest alone. "What else do you suggest?"

The blond's look dropped to his watch.

"Honestly, I think you've wasted enough of my time." He clicked his tongue and Claire pouted at his childish behavior.

"Oh please!" she lifted herself and walked around the office, eventually leaning against the desk. "There must be something you'd like me to do." With a quiet whisper, Claire lifted her hand and tried — dared try — to touch his face. Wesker was quick grabbing her wrist and holding her back before she even reached him, his gaze impacting on her through the shield of the glasses. Claire winced, standing the pain in her arm as she bent forward, hoping she'd catch the man glancing at her tits when she did. "I mean, we can make it quick."

It wasn't the first time she tried to tease the shit out of him, only to see how far he'd let her go trying her supposed female weapons on him. He didn't risk a look at her cleavage. He smirked a bit and squeezed her wrist a little tighter, causing Claire to frown.

"Miss Redfield, it's funny to see how eagerly you beg for attention." There was not the slightest hint of shaking in his low voice as he spoke. He was calm, dark, and an ass — as usual. "And all because Chris is busy with someone else."

Claire took a deep breath as she held his gaze. They had been seeing each other secretly every Friday night for a couple of months already, and Claire had been introduced to all kinds of new sexual practices. Bondage and dominance were his favorite, she had noticed. Wesker liked to be in control, and she loved to be controlled. It was funny, because Claire had not only learned how to use her body efficiently to please Wesker and herself, she had also gained enough confidence to face him in his most offending demeanor and show him how much guts there were in the name Redfield. She watched him, clicking her tongue provocatively. Her eyebrow jumped up.

"You won't happen to be jealous because that someone else is now busy with my brother instead of you, will you?"

Oh, that had hit him. She felt it. She knew it! She saw it written on his face, no matter how hard and cold he kept his expressions. Jill and Wesker. Wesker and Jill. Claire's look drove through the room as she wondered in what places he had done it with the brunette until the Captain chuckled back at her.

"I fear you misunderstand everything, Miss Redfield. As usual." However, the touch of his hand as it let go of her wrist and slid over her chest showed her how much she had really understood. Undoing the zipper of her jacket and pushing his fingers into it, he palmed the smoothness of her right breast as Claire's blue eyes darted back to his face. The next second, he was on his feet, lifting her legs ungently as he ripped on her pants, pulling them up to her knees as Claire lay back on the desk, with her feet in the air. He rapidly checked if she was ready, before he chuckled and buried himself in her boiling, wet hole.

He'd probably never tell her what had happened between Jill and him, but it didn't really matter as, currently there was only Claire on his desk.

They could leave the anal lesson for the following week.

* * *

"I fucking hate spring!" Jill had been sneezing her lungs out the previous weeks every time someone opened the door or a window. The brunette had a very tough kind of allergy and the antihistamines she was taking just seemed to knock her out physically without improving her life quality in any way. She'd even been on medical leave the week before. Claire pitied her. She looked like shit.

Chris was taking great care of her and it somehow delighted Claire how well the couple was getting along. She'd be soon off to college and, though Chris had once left her alone to enlist for the Air Force, she didn't feel so confident about leaving him living on his own. Luckily, Jill was with him. Admittedly, when it was pollen season, she was as useless as a wet rag.

"Oh, Claire," the brunette cleaned her nose and sat at the table for dinner, where Claire was serving them mashed potatoes. "I overheard a conversation between some high school girls when I went to get my meds today," she said. "They were talking about their prom. When is yours?"

Claire sighed in annoyance. Jill didn't look like she was into such stuff and she had believed the subject would be as unimportant to the brunette as it was to herself.

"Friday," she responded in the most boring voice she could make, hoping they would soon move the conversation to other issues. Unfortunately, they didn't. Chris' fork hit the plate in a loud rattle as soon as he heard about the prom.

"Friday?" he asked in surprise. "Why didn't you tell me? Don't you need a dress or so?" His look turned dark. "Who is taking you?"

Claire's eyebrows jumped up at her brother's reaction, enjoying the jealous undertone in his voice. How cute. He believed she would attend her prom and that she'd even have a date. She couldn't hold back a smirk of love before she shook her head at him.

"Nobody. I'm not going, Chris."

But that seemed to upset her brother even more. He stopped chewing as his look drove over the table in confusion.

"Why not?"

Both Chris and Jill had their faces turned to her, staring at her with the widest eyes each of them could currently make. Claire felt the uncomfortable pressure on herself and shrugged.

"That's just a stupid event for those poor souls who need to show themselves off, pretending that high school was the best time of their lives and that they'll keep in touch forever."

Chris shook his head, not believing his sister's words.

"I always thought you liked high school."

That wasn't entirely wrong. She liked school; she just didn't tolerate some of her snobby classmates. She shrugged once more.

"Well, in this case, there's no reason to celebrate it's over."

Jill giggled at Claire's reply as Chris rolled his eyes.

"I didn't go to mine either," the brunette explained in a sad voice, lowering her look to the plate where she was currently stabbing her vegetables. "My father and I moved from one place to another at least once a year. So, by the time I had to go to my prom, I didn't really know anyone in that school, so I skipped it." She pouted to hide how close she was to tears. "Also, my dad was arrested shortly before that party, so the chances anyone would have asked to be my date were pretty bad."

The warm glance Chris gave her was priceless. He looked like a kid lining up excitedly for his first time at the movies. He patted his chest.

"I would have asked you out!"

The woman returned his look, putting her hand onto his.

"Yeah, maybe you would." Someone as brave as Chris Redfield wouldn't have feared any social pressures if they kept him from taking the girl he liked to her prom. Claire eyed him. Wasn't he the best man who had ever walked over earthly ground? "So, Claire!" Jill turned her attention back to the redhead. "I think you should go, even if you think it's stupid, because you might regret it someday."

Claire inwardly wished Jill would suddenly stop breathing and just die right where she sat, as now even Chris turned to her expectantly.

"I agree with her, Claire."

Blowing out a deep breath, Claire poked the food on her plate, giving a cold shoulder to the remaining adults in the house.

"Think what you want. I'm not going."

Chris sighed, running his tongue over his teeth as he thought about it.

"I really don't want you to miss this, Claire. You're a young girl, you have to go to your prom." There was an expression of hurt and concern on his face that Claire didn't miss to catch. She loved him so much — until a second later. A second later, a part of her wanted to murder him.

"Is it because you don't have a date?"

The click of her tongue was so loud and angry that she thought it would blast her teeth out. Was Chris suggesting that she needed to show herself around next to a pretty-faced boy to feel confident? As if he himself had never taught her how to be the independent young woman she was? Jill's clear eyes turned to Claire in expectation, probably driven by the knowledge about the secret boyfriend she believed the redhead to spend her nights with. Claire managed to give her a sign and appeal for her silence again.

"That's absurd. It's just a stupid party," she hissed at Chris once Jill was taken care of.

However, Chris' surprising reaction made the stupid party look like the most wonderful idea ever anyone had.

"You don't have to go alone, you know?" He laughed. "I can go with you!"

Her jaw dropped as she looked into his eyes, silently asking herself if she was hallucinating. What had he just said? That he wanted to take her to her prom?

"But…" Headshaking, she tried to hide her excitement over Chris' offer. "That's…"

However, Chris just took her hand and smiled at her. A tiny gesture that unarmed her instantly.

"Please Claire, it would make me so happy to take you to your prom. Will you let me be your date?"

Okay, no, she wasn't dreaming. It was real. Her brother was seriously asking if he could take her to her prom. A craving sigh found its way through her lips as they curved a smile. Had she ever craved anything so much?

"Oh, Chris."

* * *

Half-heartedly, and only to pretend she wasn't dying of love and happiness, Claire had kept claiming that she couldn't be taken to her prom by her older brother. That discussion had gone on another twenty minutes, until they concluded that only her friend Kelly knew what Chris looked like and that he was the best option for her to go to her prom, impress everyone, and come back safe and sound. Claire felt like walking on clouds. Chris, the man she loved, was her prom date.

Her mood swung from merry excitement to neurotic hysteria within seconds. Picturing herself and Chris together at the prom, and wondering how her classmates would react, she didn't find the needed sleep that night. Would people ask her if Chris was her boyfriend? What would she even reply to that question? And, more importantly, what would Chris reply? Claire was so excited that she nearly forgot that she already had another appointment on Friday night. However, as soon as she became aware —the following day— that her prom interfered with her weekly lessons with Wesker, Chris was already giving her the news that would free her from any obligation.

"Hah!" He exclaimed as he entered the house on Thursday afternoon. "Wesker gave me tomorrow night off, so there's no problem for me to take you to the party." His arm carefully curled around her waist and spun her around. Claire giggled loudly in surprise.

"Really?" she yelped incredulously.

"What did you tell him?" Jill laughed, busy drying the dishes Claire had just washed. "He's always making us work on Friday night lately."

Claire had to bite her tongue to hold back the chuckle that tried to crawl out. Jill couldn't know that she was the reason why they never got a Friday off. On top of that, Wesker had always prepared some special tasks for the S.T.A.R.S. teams that would keep them away from the office, if not the entire station. Investigating footprints in the woods, following and observing suspicious individuals of questionable backgrounds and organizing papers about century-year-old cases were commonly his favorite jobs to give them. The fact that Chris and his colleagues were getting paid for tasks that weren't hard nor dangerous in any way was the only reason why Claire didn't really feel guilty about it.

"I told him I was taking my sister to her prom." Chris laughed and shrugged as Claire's eyes widened.

"You told him that?"

Her brother nodded.

"Sure, I did." The smile he gave her was reason enough to believe blindly in his word. Chris grabbed his sunglasses from the table and put them on, making a serious face as he turned back to Claire. "He said  _Chris, take your night off already. My regards to your sister_." Theatrical gestures of boredom accompanied his words as he spoke and made him indeed sound a bit like their Captain. Laughing, he took the sunglasses off.

Claire just stared flabbergasted at her brother's acting.

"He said that?" She yelped; Jill chuckled somewhere behind her and Chris nodded, laughing.

"Yes, although he was probably just getting tired of hearing me talk."

As Chris and Jill left her alone with her thoughts, she felt an unknown warmth in her chest. Chris wasn't the only one who had been given Friday off and, maybe, it was Wesker's particular, gloomy way to say he was satisfied with her services. She somehow felt like a prostitute who'd received her first payment, but she couldn't have cared less. She was going to her prom with no one less than Chris.

It was all that mattered.

* * *

Was this really happening? Claire thought as she thumbed over the floral corsage on her wrist after fastening the seat belt. Not in her wildest dreams had she ever imagined she'd be attending her prom with the man she loved, and everything still felt deliciously unreal.

She hadn't had enough time to buy a new dress and Jill had suggested she could wear the green one from the RPD meeting again. Chris telling her she looked amazing in that thing was enough to make her forget how easily the straps of that dress had slipped off her shoulders when Wesker had caught her in the gardens. Anyway, that night, she was with Chris, and only with him. And Chris could take off whatever he wanted.

Shaking off the forbidden thoughts, Claire turned to her brother, who had just climbed into the driver's seat and was searching for the right frequency to join them on their ride to the party.

"Hah! Perfect!" he exclaimed as the melodic voice of Freddie Mercury slammed  _We Are the Champions_ around their ears. Yes, Claire felt like a champion, indeed. Chris was just doing his sister an innocent favor, but to her it was the biggest declaration of love he could make. And good Jill had been sent to arrange some documents in the RPD. "Ready?"

Claire nodded, smiling nervously as Chris hit the gas.

* * *

"I can't believe it! Claire!" Kelly yelled as she spotted the siblings entering the huge ballroom. Leaving her date standing alone on the dance floor, she ran towards her friend to welcome her. "I thought you didn't even think of coming to such a stupid, boring event."

Chris responded for his sister, looping his arm around her shoulders and nodding happily.

"Oh, she tried to stay away." He laughed so full-heartedly that Claire was about to melt in his arms. "But I knew she'd regret it forever if she didn't go, so I took her." Clearing his throat, he put on the most suspecting expression she'd ever seen on him. "This way I can make sure that no unworthy being gets too close to my DNA, too."

Claire rolled her eyes. If only he knew what she'd do to his DNA, he'd probably believe he was the one who needed to stay away from her. Kelly laughed.

"Oh, don't worry, Chris. I think Claire can handle the unworthy pretty well on her own," she said and smiled at Claire. "But I'm sure that all the girls will die of jealousy when they see that you bring the hottest of dates," she giggled. Claire laughed, seeing how shyly Chris scratched the back of his head. Wasn't he cute?

Kelly was a sweetheart. The cute, tiny blonde with rosy cheeks and a shrill voice had been Claire's best friend ever since they'd met in their first year in school. She had excellent taste in music and her Danish mother always offered Claire those toffee cookies when she visited them. Kelly was respectful, kind-hearted and trustworthy and, to Claire, that was reason enough to be friends with her.

"Just don't let your date hear you," the redhead replied, but Kelly just shrugged her shoulders, eye-rolling.

"I'm just being honest, and Michael himself must be aware that he can't compete with Chris." She laughed and patted Claire's shoulder. "Taste the punch, girl. That shit is fruity."

As her friend walked away, Claire launched a timid look at her brother, who shrugged his shoulders.

"As your brother, I'd say you have a single drink and you can  _walk_  home," he said and gave her a dark glance. "But as your prom date..." his expression shifted into something so naughty it made Claire sigh in despair. "As your prom date I want some, too." He grabbed her wrist and pulled her through the mass of rolling balloons and plastic party streamers towards the tables, checking quickly which was the best spot where to attack the bowl from.

Once he'd gotten them two cups of punch, he and Claire walked around the dance floor, studying their chances to actually get onto it at some point of the night.

"Come on, this is your prom! You can't just not dance." Chris howled as if he tried to drown the loud 90's pop music. Claire just shook her head and leaned closer to him, yelling into his ear.

"I wasn't saying that I don't want to dance. I'm just not sure I know how to."

Her brother, never too shy for a big show, rewarded her with a bright smirk.

"Oh, please. You don't have to do a Waltz or a Tango. It's just about shaking your hips a little, following the music. Nothing sophisticated." Claire's squeal when she felt his hand on her waist was lost in the music. "Come on, it's very easy. I'll lead you." Chris pulled her after him onto the dancefloor and Claire was certain her heart was going to explode. Catching sight of the group of snobby, rich girls, led by Melissa Hathaway and her new silicone tits, Claire felt glorious. She was being evaluated from head to toe by all the jealous eyes. Chris was indeed much more attractive than any of their dates and the girls knew it too well. Not even the captain of the football team seemed to interest them anymore when her brother walked past them and Claire thought, again, that this had to be a dream. Just in the middle of the dancefloor, Chris turned around and faced her. "So," he said and took her hands, laying her arms around his neck and putting his own around her waist and hips. "Here we are. I'd say, we just start shifting our weight from one foot to the other. Later on we'll get to move them actually, okay?" He laughed and Claire nodded, a little nervous.

It was such a pity that the night wouldn't end with them two in one bed together.

Chris led her perfectly. They danced three complete songs before they got another cup of punch and talked to some of Claire's classmates. He introduced himself as an old friend of her brother's and that he was so happy to take Claire to her prom. He kissed her on the cheek and temple in front of them all and Claire wished he'd take his acting a bit further. Maybe she could just turn her head accidentally and make him peck her on the mouth. She punished her impure thoughts pouring down a whole cup of punch.

"Hey, hey, hey! Take it slow!" Chris had spotted her and took the cup from her hand as he jerked his sister away from the punchbowl. "That was enough alcohol for you, young lady." He hissed. "You can't drink yet, you know?"

Who cared? Everybody was under twenty-one and already getting tipsy at that party. When she'd seen Kelly the last time, the blonde was battling with the most hilarious and cutest hiccup ever, which made her sound more like a hamster with a cold than like a teenage girl.

"Hey!" Chris exclaimed as a new song began to play. "Someone has actually some good taste here." After a never-ending and ear-ripping list of NSYNC and Backstreet Boys pop songs, the unmistakable voice of Axl Rose waved through the hall and Chris smirked. "We need to dance to that song, come on."

They danced slowly, like lovers, to the sadly romantic rock song. Waving and floating in her brother's arms, Claire knew she didn't want that night to end. Ever. She wanted to stay there in Chris' grip and listen to  _November Rain_  and drink punch until she'd die. Nothing would matter as long as Chris was with her. Her brother held her tightly in his grip and she let him lead her over the dance floor. And she was happy. She was exactly where she belonged.

"So never mind the darkness. We still can find a way." Chris had such a beautiful voice. Claire shifted in his grip and put her head against his shoulder, carefully nuzzling his neck. "'Cause nothin' lasts forever. Even cold November rain."

It felt like those lines summarized what they had gone through together, and how they'd survived thanks to their love. Claire thought it was the most precious song ever written, just because Chris was singing it to her. She sang along, softly whispering the emotional lines into Chris', and she knew that she had a new favorite song. Claire giggled.

"I love you, Chris," she whispered, sensing he wouldn't understand the real meaning behind her words. He didn't.

"I love you too, Claire-bear." He kissed her forehead and Claire looked up, staring into her brother's eyes like nothing else in the world mattered anymore, and she noticed how close his lips were to hers. A burning question spread in her head and wouldn't let her go. Would he let her kiss him?

Chris smiled at her and Claire smiled back. Their faces were so close to each other's that she could feel Chris' breath on her nose. Had they ever been that close? She couldn't remember. Everything around her swung and spun and Chris' handsome face was everything she saw; the center of all her blurry attention. Something told her they had stopped dancing and simply stood still, facing each other. His hand rose up to her cheek, removed a tiny strand from her face and combed it behind her ear. She scanned his features in the spotlights as the longing dared take control over her acts.

_Kiss me._

She wasn't allowed to even wish it.

_Kiss me like you kiss Jill. Voraciously. Eyes closed and mouth wide open._

Her heart beat faster as Chris cupped her chin and turned her face up to his. Her heart raced, pumping her blood through her veins at a painfully electrifying pace. Was this really happening?

_Yes. Do it., Chris. I'm ready. Kiss me. Kiss me and be my first one._

Her hymen was gone, that was true. But her mouth? Her mouth had never been really tasted by anyone. Neither Wesker nor herself had ever made a real attempt to share their breath that closely, and she'd never complain about it. Her eyes fell shut almost automatically. Claire parted her lips in expectation as she tilted her head to the right. Just a tiny bit. Just enough to show Chris she wanted it, too.

"Uh-oh." Chris' soft voice reached her ear and her eyes fluttered back open. There was a spark of concern in her brother's amused smirk. "Look at you! You're falling asleep already." He released her hips and grabbed her wrist instead. "I think you've had too much to drink."

Could someone die of disappointment? If so, it had surely been her heart she had heard shatter in her chest as she felt the air in her lungs was missing. Chris thought she was drunk, which was ridiculous. She had barely had enough to be a tiny little tipsy. The only thing that was currently altering her senses was Chris' aftershave.

"No, I…"

But her brother was already pulling her after him towards the exit.

"We're going home."

* * *

Okay, Chris had been right. She was indeed a little drunk, Claire admitted as the first curve Chris took seemed to last until they arrived home. She hung sadly in the passenger's seat, crying for the ending of the night she had whole-heartedly wished for, and wondering what would have happened if she had just taken the chance and kissed her brother.

Chris pulled the door open and leaned into the car.

"Can you walk?" he asked her in concern. Wasn't he a sweetheart? Always so worried about his baby sister and her well-being. Claire rolled her head to him and smiled.

"Yes, Of course." Leaping out of the car, she soon noticed Chris had to hold her wrist to keep her from stumbling. Fucking fruity punch. Claire giggled. "Oops."

Chris' laughter announced his doings and one second later, he had already taken her up and was carrying her towards the front door. How comfortable his grip felt around her. Claire nestled her head on his shoulder, wishing he could be her pillow for the rest of her sleepless nights. He was so strong, walking with her through the house as if she weighed nothing. Not even the steep staircase was a problem for the robust frame of his, and just a minute after they arrived, Chris settled her into the silken cushions of her bed. He sat next to her on the edge of the mattress.

"I know it's a sin to let you wrinkle that dress, Claire," she heard him whisper closely, combing her hair out of her face. "But I don't think you're able to get out of it."

_Help me. Rip it off my body. I'll show you what a sin is._

Claire smirked at her filthy thoughts, opening her eyes to Chris again. Was there anything more heart-stopping than that shimmer in his eyes?

"Thank you, Chris. I had a wonderful night."

A smile spread on his face as he thumbed over her cheek. Leaning down, he brushed her forehead with his lips, just enough to leave Claire longing for more.

"Me too. Thank you for letting me join you. Good night, Claire" When he got up, Claire held on to his hand, pulling him closer to her. As if there was a chance that a tipsy teenager could actually move a strong young man like Chris Redfield. He chuckled.

"You need anything else?"

_I need you._

She sighed, closing her eyes again.

"Stay with me."

_Sleep with me._

And Chris just kept chuckling. Her free hand reached for the spot behind her and patted the mattress.

"Please."

The sound of his jacket slipping off the perfect silhouette of his shoulders aroused her surprisingly. Pushing her knees together, Claire shifted a little as she felt Chris lie down next to her body and embrace her from behind. Carefully. Aware that one wrong move was enough to touch her breast accidentally. Claire hummed the melody of  _November Rain_  quietly as she let sleep claim her, Chris' arm tightly wrapped around her. It wasn't as good as she'd wished, nor as she deserved, but it was more than she'd ever ask for.

"I love you, Chris."

"I love you too."

He switched the lights off and let darkness swallow them both.


	8. Jill

Claire woke with her brother's name on her lips, along with the fruity-sour taste of prom punch that seemed to burn itself into her tongue. She groaned a bit at the painful impact of daylight on her eyes and tried to sit up, soon regretting the attempt. Everything around her spun and the acid bile threatened to rise. Chris had been right, it seemed. She had way too much to drink.

Her narrowed eyes drove over the surroundings. By the light of the sun and its angle, Claire concluded that it had to be past noon already and she swung —no, she had trouble trying to shove both of her legs out of the bed. It looked like she had a nice hangover. Shit. What had they made that punch of? She'd have to ask Kelly if she felt as sick as she herself did. Claire turned her head to the space between herself and the wall, where Chris had laid down the night before and the memories of her brash acts and close sins came back in a wave of regret and shame. Hands on her face, she screamed into her palms until the pressure in her chest would disappear. Her fingers ran through her hair and undid the already loose braid, combing her hair nervously in an attempt to pacify her anxious spirit.

Mom looked terrified from behind the glass in the frame. Had she feared something would happen between her two children, and that they'd even let her watch? Claire huffed out a laugh.

"Don't worry, mom," she whispered as her hand reached under her dress. "I still wear my panties."

She got up and stumbled out of her bedroom, her rumbling stomach leading the way downstairs reluctantly. The smell of bacon and other fried tortures emerged from the kitchen and Claire wondered if Chris was cooking breakfast. Maybe he had gotten up right before her. She slowly descended the stairs, sliding her fingers over the cold wall and the handrail to hold herself on her feet. Before she could turn into the kitchen, though, a piece of conversation made her freeze.

"I appreciate everything you've done for me, Chris, but I have to get back to my own place someday." That was Jill's voice. Her tone was low, with a little hint of desperation in it. "I have brought you and Claire enough trouble."

Claire felt herself hold her breath unconsciously. Was Jill moving out?

"Dammit you're being ridiculous," Chris replied in an uncommonly rude tone. He tried to sound angry, but Claire knew too well that it wasn't rage that spoke out of him. He was hurt to the core. "It's about being practical. You could save a lot of money if you stayed here."

Claire put her hand onto the wall comfortingly, as if her touch would help Chris be strong. Jill kept skeptical.

"I live half an hour away from work as well." Okay, that was hard to deny. Jill had once told her that her apartment was just a ten-minute-walk away from the RPD, and even though Chris and she drove to work together, their house in the suburbs of a neighboring town couldn't compete with that kind of comfort. Chris grunted at her words. He always made animal sounds when he didn't know how to reply. Jill used the silence to keep speaking. "Also, remember that this was just going to be two weeks."

It was true. The two weeks they had promised her they'd need to get her apartment ready had impudently turned into almost three months. Apparently, the refurbishment was done now.

"Look, they said you can get back Saturday next week, right?" Okay, maybe it wasn't entirely ready yet. "You can still think about it."

Jill's audible sigh advanced her next move.

"Chris, please, don't make this harder. We said we were going to keep this friendly and…" She paused. Claire's heart almost sprang out of her chest as she heard her words. "Maybe you… we are getting too attached. Remember that we work together."

Too attached? Claire leaned against the wall as she heard the brunette reasoning. Getting attached to a coworker was bad in their line of work, wasn't it? But good Jill should have thought about that a little earlier; before bedding Chris, probably; before moving in with him and sleeping in the same bedroom. Wasn't she seeing how much she was hurting him? Caught between anger and hope, Claire stopped breathing; she waited and listened. How was Chris going to respond? He had been so full of life and joy since Jill had moved in with them, and Claire had believed that the brunette felt the same about him. She sighed. Hopefully, Chris would give one of his badass responses.

"Attached. I see." Claire heard him huff out a laugh, before the cabinets fell closed with a loud noise. Footsteps followed, coming closer to her and she barely had time to leap onto her feet and run back up the stairs. When Chris reached the staircase, everything looked like she was just about to come down, and that she hadn't heard anything of their intimate talk. "Hello and good morning, Cinderella." Her brother laughed, standing with his arms crossed and waiting for her to reach the lower floor. "How are you feeling?"

Claire made a face of disgust and waved her hand rejectingly.

"Not so well." She walked down the last steps and let her brother pat her head. "I think I need a glass of water and some fruit."

Jill's head peaked curiously out of the kitchen.

"Good morning! How are you? Did you have a good time?" Claire barely managed to smile at the brunette and Jill understood. "Oh, I have a great remedy for hangovers. Come with me."

As Claire followed the brunette into the kitchen, she glanced back at Chris, catching sight of his face of disappointment and pain. However, neither Jill nor him spoke a word about the imminent disaster, keeping silent about their feelings.

* * *

That silence went on during the whole week. Jill didn't even mention that her apartment was almost ready and Chris was avoiding most of the conversations anyway. Before, they had always seemed to be waiting for Claire to leave the room, but now the redhead felt that she was the only reason they could still behave like normal adults around each other. Jill tried to make eye contact; Chris wouldn't respond; and Claire watched them all the time.

When she dared ask Chris if he was alright, he shrugged the subject off. It was work, he said; that Wesker was just being a dick again and that he needed someone to remove that broomstick and shove something else up his ass instead. He would crack a corny joke every now and then and Claire would laugh at it, never insisting. He didn't want to concern her, not knowing that his silence was paining her more than the outspoken truth. She hated seeing him suffer like that and she wished she could help him out of the hole of misery he was in. However, Chris wanted to handle his troubles alone, and she would let him do just that. But nobody would make her move away from his side. Once he was ready to speak about it, she would be there.

The nights were the most awkward thing about their current situation. When darkness fell, silence became impossibly discernable in the house and Claire was thankful whenever either Chris or Jill had nightshift. When they were both home, they would just stay up indefinitely, only to avoid being spotted when they didn't disappear into the same bedroom. After challenging them twice and losing both contests, on Thursday, Claire had shown some mercy and had gone to bed a little earlier — also because Wesker would be waiting for her the following night and she didn't want to draw needless attention to herself when she'd walk through the station. Unsurprisingly, two pairs of feet followed her upstairs not long after, their ways parting as they both walked into different bedrooms.

Chris had said Saturday next week. That meant two more days until Jill's apartment was ready and, so far, they hadn't even told her about it. Claire sighed. It was something she wasn't part of, but as a living member of the same household, she wished they wouldn't treat her like a little child.

Maybe it meant that Jill was staying, eventually. Maybe it meant that there was still hope for Chris and his bad choices.

Or maybe it meant that it was, really, none of her business. Claire turned around and decided she'd try to get some sleep. Her own bad choices had kept her awake long enough.

* * *

Claire didn't quite know how Wesker kept the other S.T.A.R.S. members or the Captain of Bravo team away from the office on Friday night but, so far, nobody had ever caught or interrupted them. That night, Chris and Jill had been sent on another useless assignment in the middle of nowhere - alone, it seemed. Under other conditions, she would have expected them to be happy to spend some more time together, but as they had barely spoken a word to each other in the previous days, she pictured their shift to be uncomfortably silent. However, that was none of her concern. She was busy enough not being late for her meeting.

Wesker was waiting for her, sitting at his desk and pretending he was reading some report, when she stumbled into the S.T.A.R.S. office at ten o'clock. From the way his lips curved she knew he was displeased and her look dropped to her watch. She was on time, so his bad mood wasn't probably her fault.

"Captain Wesker," she gasped, stomping into the office and throwing her jacket carelessly onto the chair. "Hello."

"Miss Redfield." The man nodded and pointed at the chair her jacket occupied. "Please take a seat, I'll be with you in a minute."

Claire was dying for a place to sit, but as her heart was still hammering loudly in her chest after her record sprint through the station, she preferred standing until she'd catch her breath again. Refusing the offer with a grateful headshake, she pointed to the desks outside of Wesker's office.

"I don't want to bother you. I'll be waiting outside, if you don't mind."

He didn't. No offensive comment or gesture, not even a hum, was given in response, and Claire was free to walk through the huge S.T.A.R.S. office. Most of the desks were buried under stacks of paper, and ammunition was lying around like candy instead of being organized in locked cabinets. She shook her head. If this was the elite of the RPD, she didn't want to know how the other departments looked.

Her way through the office brought her inevitably to Chris' desk, with its coffee mug stains and the pencils with bite marks on one end. He'd always had the habit of chewing on his writing tools when he was nervous, even as a child. This job at S.T.A.R.S. seemed to fluster him more than she'd perceived so far. Or maybe it was the current situation he and Jill were going through that was making him so uneasy. Claire turned her head to the left and found her brother's guitar sitting in the corner, like a guardian on night watch. Chris had never really learned how to play it, giving up on music after their parents' accident. The instrument had belonged to their father before he'd given it to his son for his fourteenth birthday. The guitar meant everything to Chris, so it was just natural that he'd keep it where he most needed it.

Claire smirked as her fingers strummed the loose strings and the guitar's dark growl echoed through the room, a little louder than she'd expected. Wesker didn't seem to have finished yet, and she didn't want him to complain about any noises, so she turned to the desk next to Chris' instead. The first time Wesker had let her stroll through the office, she'd wondered whose workplace it was; so tidy and neat, and with a S.T.A.R.S. beret resting on it. She should have known that it was Jill's. It screamed her name from every possible spot and angle. Claire approached the surface as a photo frame she hadn't seen before caught her attention. It was a picture of a dog. A Golden Retriever perhaps? She shrugged at her own mental question, as she had no fucking idea about dog breeds.

"Have you found something interesting?" Claire turned and found Wesker leaning in the door frame of his office, watching her like he was paying for it. She shrugged a shoulder.

"I didn't know Jill had a dog," she explained. Maybe that was the real reason why the brunette was so crazy for moving back to her own place. Where was the dog now? Had Jill left it with a friend of hers? Claire pouted a bit at the idea, because she herself had always wanted a dog. With their complicated schedules, it was hard for the Redfield siblings to take care of a four-legged friend, but Jill could certainly have brought her pet for the two weeks she'd supposedly stayed with them.

"She doesn't." Wesker replied and made her look up.

"She doesn't?"

The man chuckled and walked towards the desk, where Claire was currently searching for the right question to ask.

"She showed up here with that photograph after Speyer had been so considerate to suggest that women should have pictures of their boyfriends with them to show the world that they needed a male being beside them." He took up the frame and turned it around to show her it still had the price tag on it. "The dog came with the frame."

Claire couldn't hold back a smirk. That picture surely showed Speyer how much of a man Jill really needed.

Claire sighed a bit as she took the frame from Wesker's hands and stared at it.

"I think you can soon stop worrying about that friendship between my brother and Jill," Claire muttered sadly as Wesker's words about Jill distracting Chris came back to her.

"So?" The blond leaned against the desk and nodded at her with what Claire identified as feigned interest. She kept talking anyway.

"She might be moving out, soon." She turned back to the silent guitar in the corner. "I also think they will stop… you know."

Wesker grunted in response.

"Stop what, Miss Redfield? Jumping onto each other's genitals as if that was what they're getting paid for?" He laughed darkly at Claire's hurting glance and the redhead replied with a serious expression.

"Did  _you_  do this?" She asked bravely, unafraid of his reaction. Jill had never been so concerned about getting involved with a coworker, as she had shown during so many nights. Why would she care now? "Did you speak to Jill?"

Wesker sighed, his hand reaching for his sunglasses and slowly pulling them down his nose. With his eyes staring directly at her, he was even more frightening and Claire even wished he would put those things back on.

"Miss Redfield." His voice was low, as usual. "This is not kindergarten. We are in a police station and we fight for peace and justice in Raccoon City." He shook his head in derision as he freed the frame from Claire's hands. "It is widely known that there's no room for distraction of any kind in the RPD, but even though I believe your brother's behavior is unprofessional and not worthy of a S.T.A.R.S. member, you are wrong. I have nothing to do with any of Jill Valentine's personal choices." Claire's blue eyes held his glance as he put the picture back onto the desk behind himself. "Also, I always believed, from your own speech, that you wanted her gone."

Claire's lip twitched in anger. Who did he even think he was?

"I want Chris to be happy." With the sternness of the very same man in front of her, she countered his verbal attack. "That's everything I ever wanted."

And a smirk appeared on Wesker's lips as he put the sunglasses back on.

"Everything?"

Arms crossed, he showed her how patient a S.T.A.R.S. Captain could really be, waiting for her reaction like scavengers waited for the lions to finish their meal. Claire gasped.

"Everything."

If there was something Claire had learned about Albert Wesker, it was that he liked resolute, courageous people. But liking; or rather tolerating them, didn't mean he would, ever, stop mocking their every word.

"And do you think Jill Valentine is giving him the happiness he deserves, Miss Redfield?" He pushed one finger up, tucking one loose lock behind her ear. Claire's lip began to shake in expectation. That delicate touch of his always held her captive between sickness and arousal.

"Well," she whispered. Wesker trailed his fingers down her neck as she swallowed. "He seems so much bet..."

"I didn't ask what he seems to be, Miss Redfield, nor for your explanation," his gruff voice shouted at her. "I asked if you think that Jill Valentine makes him as happy as he could be. Yes or no? It's a question with an easy answer, isn't it?"

Claire stood still like a statue, holding her breath as Wesker's fingertip reached her collarbone. Yes or no. Yes or no.

"No," she breathed and stood Wesker's mocking laughter with dignity.

"I expected that. Don't you believe that he would be so much better off…?"

"With me." Her teeth dug into the corner of her lower lip as the blond stroked harshly over her chest and down her abdomen. Claire closed her eyes to intensify the sense of his touch on her body. Wesker chuckled.

"Did you enjoy your prom night, Claire?" With a mouthful of arrogance, he called her by her first name and made her shudder. "Chris was so excited to take you that I couldn't deny his wish." When he put another hand onto her waist, Claire squealed with surprise under his touch. "Did you dance?"

Claire took a deep breath as she wanted to fight, but just resigned to melt in his hands. Ready to give in to him once more, she nodded, being rewarded with another one of his creepy grins.

"I'm sure you looked…" His mouth was so close to her ear that the humid breath tickled on her skin. "Lovely, together." Savoring that scent of his in all her pores, Claire reached for his hand. "Shhhh." He caught her wrist and held it tight — so tight her fingers curled into an involuntary fist. "You're not allowed to touch."

Right, she wasn't. She was the object; the one who  _was_  touched. Wesker spun her around and sat her ungracefully onto Jill's desk, pushing her knees open and stepping between them. Claire arched her back and gasped out a moan as the man's strong hands lay around her waist like a pair of pliers, holding her steady as he pressed himself against her spot.

"Are you thinking of Chris, Claire?" The heat rose between her thighs and he must have felt it. Hands travelling upwards, he brushed the curve of her breasts with the tips of his thumbs.

"Yes," she cried out and squeezed her eyes shut harder, feeling the man's pressure between her thighs. "Yes."

Wesker chuckled, his fingers indelicately tugging on the buttons of the soft pink shirt.

"What do you want him to do to you, Claire?"

Her tongue flicked over her upper lip as she tried to articulate the proper words.

"I… I want him to touch me." Her wish just evoked another laugh.

"Touch you?" he whispered grunting. "You don't need to be politically correct around me, Claire. Call things by their name."

The air began to caress her skin as Wesker undid button after button of her shirt, and she pictured herself in the green dress again, dancing and swinging in Chris' arms. How easily her entire wardrobe would come apart in his grip. Claire moaned.

"I want him to fuck me," she howled and gained an approving hum from the man between her thighs.

"Is that so?" Palming her breasts in the soft cream-colored bra that left nothing to imagination, he made her squeal a bit more. "How hard?"

Another gasp followed.

"Very hard." Her own hands stroked over Wesker's and tightened his grip on her breasts. "I want him to come in me and…" Claire never got to finish the sentence.

The phone rang. The goddamn phone rang and Wesker let go of her faster than a teenage boy being caught masturbating. With a steady stomp he walked back to his office, where the ringing emerged from and picked up.

"Wesker," he yelled into the device, obviously annoyed. Claire stayed seated on Jill's desk, pouting a little at the interruption. "Am I the only one in this damn city who is doing his job, I wonder." She heard Wesker complain, without raising his voice. "I see. Got it."

Claire tucked her hair behind her ear as the blond came out of the office, waiting for him to continue.

"So, where were we?"

Wesker sighed.

"Get dressed."

She laughed nervously as both of her eyebrows jumped up in expectation. So, it was one of those nights he wanted to take their game out of the station. It wasn't the first time.

"Are we going out?" She leaped off the desk and stood in front of Wesker, almost brushing his chest with her own again. However, the man shoved her away with a strong grip on her shoulders.

" _We_  aren't going anywhere.  _You_  go."

Once she realized what he was telling her, Claire's jaw dropped and she felt her knees weaken.

"Sorry, what?"

"You heard me, Miss Redfield," Wesker turned around and walked to the door, ignoring her shy mewls of disappointment. "I don't have time for you tonight, so make it quick. I will send your brother home before midnight."

She should have been relieved, shouldn't she? That's what she told herself as she stalked after him towards the exit, quickly grabbing her jacket before she gave him another irritated look.

"Well," she hissed. "If you were going to work, you could have surely told me before…" A shrug ran through her both shoulders as she spoke. "Are you telling me I have come all the way to Raccoon City in vain?"

Wesker stared darkly at her as another sigh found its way out.

"You'll get over it, Miss Redfield. So, stop the pouting," he muttered and pulled out a dark leather wallet. Claire's jaw dropped as he handed her a couple of twenty-dollar notes. "This should be enough to cover your ride."

She stared at the money incredulously. If this was his way to make her stop pouting, he was surely doing it wrong. Before she could come up with a sassy comment, though, Wesker had already turned the handle and was inviting her to leave the office.

"So, then… until next week?" she asked timidly.

Wesker nodded and held the door open until she was out of the S.T.A.R.S. office, slamming it shut as soon as she stood in the corridor.

They had never been interrupted before. Claire's look jumped from the shut office door to the money in her hand.

"Asshole."

* * *

She had been given the night off, Claire thought during her ride back home. She was free for the second Friday in a row and she should have been happy about it, as she finally could watch the late show she hadn't seen in weeks. As Chris was still working and wouldn't come home before midnight, she could have leftovers and ice cream and an endlessly long shower. She could even invite someone over. Or she could go out.

She didn't do any of those things. Once back home, Claire locked the door, tossed her jacket into a corner of her bedroom and dropped onto her bed in the dark. And there she lay, listening to her own deep breathing and losing herself in thoughts. She should have been relieved. The phone had saved her from another session of slimy, filthy hands on her body. Wesker had barely touched her.

Claire shoved her hand into the back pocket, where the cash the Captain had given her burnt on her skin. He didn't have enough with using her like a hooker, he was now also paying for her like one. A cheap one, even. Perhaps he hadn't touched her, but he had certainly found a different way to shame her. Had she ever felt that shoddy?

Claire turned to her left, facing the frame on the bedside table, and her mother's face in it. Was that a spark of satisfaction in her eyes, Claire wondered. She probably thought her daughter had gotten what she deserved, being left alone with her shameful thoughts, as well as unsatisfied.

Because Albert Wesker hadn't just told her he wasn't going to sleep with her that night. He had thrown her away like trash, denying her the pleasure she needed to protect her mind from insanity.

And she deserved pleasure. One hand drove up her body.

"Chris." As she whispered his name, Claire shut her eyes and began brushing her breast with the tip of her fingers, feeling the hard nub through the thin layers of her clothes. Oh, how she wished it was her brother's hand instead of her own.

"Touch me," she whispered, as soft and quietly as if he was there with her. He would have chuckled, kissed her and undressed her gently if he'd been there, and Claire's hand slowly moved below the fabric of the shirt and touched her breast through her underwear. An airy moan released itself as she rolled her nipple between two fingers and her right hand pushed downwards, past the waistline of her pants. It didn't even surprise her how quick and easily her fingers went inside as she tried. She was impossibly wet.

Her left hand had stopped caressing her breast with care only to start tugging on it, rolling it in her flaming palm as the fingers in her pants began searching for the right angle, the perfect spot and the ideal pace. Her mind pictured Chris; his hands on her breasts and his face between her thighs. Oh, how much she wished he would taste her entirely and savor all the love she had. He could forget Jill. Jill would never make him suffer again.

"Take me," the whisper came out more like a shout and she laughed at the carefreeness in her words. "I'm yours!"

Another deep gasp left her lips as the tickling heat in her rose. Pictures of Chris on top of her took her in, so real she almost believed he was really there with her. She cried, she bucked and she knew she was so close to her climax that she barely noticed the eyewear on Chris' face. The dark sunglasses flashed up right before her and her eyes fluttered open wide — wider. Claire froze. The shock rushed so deeply into her bowels that she feared she'd choke on the revelation. Her numb fingers tried to check if she had eventually succumbed to the wrong fantasy.

"Wesker."

She hadn't come. Thank god she hadn't come. Claire sighed in relief and sat up, fingers pulling her clothes into place. How did that happen? How could that man make his way into her dreams and thoughts while she was pursuing pleasure?

In shame, she stared at the picture of her mother, who looked mockingly happy. Everything seemed fine to her as long as it wasn't Chris who was the center of her daughter's fantasies, didn't it? Pouting and confused, Claire blamed the unwanted swap on her tiredness and got up to get ready for bed.

* * *

She woke in pitch darkness as sounds of clumsy moves emerged from the floor below. Shocked at first, Claire relaxed quickly when she became aware that burglars didn't make that much noise when they entered a house at night. It had to be Chris and Jill returning from their shift. She gave the alarm clock a hasty look before sinking back into the cushions. It was 4 am, a little late for them to end their Friday shift. Wesker had told her he'd send Chris home before midnight, hadn't he? Claire listened, expecting whispers, or at least footsteps, someone walking up the stairs and into the bedroom. Together or alone. Nothing happened, though. No other sound was made, and Claire wondered if her brother and Jill had stayed up to talk.

A glass shattered to the ground and ripped her off the pillow again. Curiously, she climbed out of the bed and opened her bedroom door, just enough to hear better what was going on down there.

No voices were heard, but the TV was on. Someone was collecting shards and tossing them into the trashcan, it seemed. Still no words. Claire bit her lip. Something was wrong there. She pushed her door open and tiptoed to the stairs, the weak light of the living room lamp just showing her shadows of what was moving on the floor below. Claire knelt on the upper stair and listened again. A click, a clunk, and the signature sound of a liquid poured into a glass was all she perceived. Getting onto her feet, she slowly descended the stairs.

She found Chris sitting — no, hanging — at the table, with his head in his hands and an empty glass of Bourbon in front of him. He was alone.

"Chris," Claire whispered as she walked to him, running her hand over his shoulders. "What's wrong? Where is Jill? Is she okay?"

She knew the answer before asking, but she wouldn't let him know. It was time he came clean and spoke to her about his troubles. Her hand squeezed his shoulder slightly, reminding him that she was there, silently requesting an answer. Chris grunted darkly, reaching for the bottle and filling the glass again before he even turned his head.

"She's gone." He blew out a laugh and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Her apartment's ready."

Claire let go of him and took a seat next to him at the table, quietly removing the bottle from his reach.

"Gone? Without saying goodbye?"

As Chris turned, she saw the reddish shimmer in his eyes. Had he been crying? Had her god-like brother been crying over the absence of a woman who didn't know how to treat a man like him? Chris nodded, a malicious smirk on his face.

"She'll come to get her stuff," he whispered. "Tomorrow, probably, when I work. We had a fight, you know?"

Claire's hand reached for his and held it. He let her. He even turned it and pressed their palms together. Oh god, how could Jill be so heartless and leave that man so broken?

"A fight about what?" She shook her head. "What happened?"

Chris licked his lips and drank again. He sighed to the sound of the ice cubes clonking back into the glass.

"She says we're getting too attached, and that it's better for both of us if we didn't cross lines."

Claire's eyebrows jumped up sarcastically. Was there a line they hadn't crossed yet? Her thumb flicked over Chris', silently comforting him.

"Chris," she said softly, "maybe she's right. You two work together and…" One deep breath gave her the time to find the right words to say. "Maybe these things distract you."

Chris grunted again.

"I know she's right," he hissed and hit the glass back onto the table. "I know she is, but it's just hard to accept when…"

He couldn't finish the sentence. Even Claire noticed the knot in his throat and decided she'd say the hurting words for him; no matter how deep they cut herself.

"When you're in love?"

Wow, that had hurt indeed. Claire quickly checked if she was still breathing before she found the strength to press her brother for an answer. Chris chuckled.

"Have you ever been in love, Claire?"

She flinched. If she had been in love, he asked completely openly without the slightest hesitation. He expected an answer as if he himself hadn't tried to hide his feelings from her. Of course, she had. She knew everything about being in love and about not being meant to be. If only she could tell him, so they could carry their burden together. Claire didn't know whether to respond or not, also because she feared Chris would demand name and address of the unknown subject to pay him a kind visit of informative nature.

It wasn't a question he'd request an answer to, and Chris kept talking without waiting for a further response.

"It's great when it goes well," he muttered, pouring himself another glass. "You feel like you can handle everything, just because you two are together. But when it goes wrong…" A sigh followed before he gulped down the burning content and exhaled deeply. Claire just sat and watched, wondering how Jill could have been so stone-cold and leave him suffering. He was such a good man, as beautiful on the inside as he was on the outside. The grimace on her face tried to turn into a comforting smile as she thumbed lovingly over the back of her brother's hand. She didn't have the words nor the actions to make his suffering end, but if Chris dwelled in pain, so would she.

Claire rocked her chair closer to his, wrapping her slender arms around his torso until she could lay her chin onto his shoulder. Breathing in deeply, she noticed how good he smelled, and she wished she could stay embraced to him forever.

"You'll find someone else," she mouthed the words, meaning she could be that someone else.

Chris huffed out a laugh and looked at her, allowing her an up-close look at his red, galled eyes, and Claire wondered if she had ever seen him so hurt. He laid his arm around her, accepting her offer to comfort him willingly, and his touch made her heart race. His breath stank like alcohol. Her poor brother. She gently rubbed her nose against his cheek and kissed it, the stubble scratching deliciously on her lips. God, she wanted to kiss him.

_I can make you forget her._

Chris' hand gently caressed over her back and down to her waist. Claire's heart threatened to burst in her chest as his fingers softly slipped over the hem of the short pajama top. Was he even aware of how close he was to breaking her with pleasure? The vibration of her arousal rushed through her body like lightning and even caused her to jump a little. She crossed her legs in despair. This was a very dangerous game.

Chris served himself another drink and began to sip it silently. Claire's eyes rolled to the golden liquid in the glass as she held on tighter to his upper body, as if she feared to fall.

"Can I have one, too?" Her innocent question made Chris click his tongue.

"No fucking way, young lady! You drank enough at your prom!" He laughed full-heartedly, but eventually handed her the glass. Claire eyed him as she downed the contents. It burnt beautifully in her throat.

"Ugh. You shouldn't be drinking this." She grimaced and gave the glass back to her brother, along with a chiding grimace. "Why don't you try to get some sleep?"

Chris chuckled as she curled in his grip.

"I will. I'm just having a goodnight-drink." And he filled the glass again, receiving a sad sigh from his sister. Half the bottle had disappeared already. She turned her face back to his, scanning his features. She could easily slide her hand over his thigh.

_Let me take care of you._

The scenes began to play in her head vividly. Had the alcohol already taken over her senses? If so, Chris had to be floating in the blurriness of his mind as well. He drank again and Claire couldn't resist the temptation, slipping her hand carefully under his shirt. Just a little. Just enough to feel how hot and soft the skin on his back was. It was, indeed, passionately hot and silken. She breathed in deeply. He seemed oblivious to her doing.

Claire rolled her shoulders a little, stretching as best as she could in Chris' grip and hoping the loose shirt she wore would do the rest. It didn't. Her brave brother sternly refused to risk a look at her cleavage. Good boy. Mom would be so proud of him. Claire sighed a little and Chris furrowed a brow.

"Are you okay? Does your back hurt?" he asked so naively that Claire almost laughed. What the fuck had she been thinking? That he would let her touch him just because Jill was gone? She was still his little sister and nothing would ever change that. She was the one person on Earth Chris would never, ever touch.

"No," she replied, headshaking. "But I will get back to bed if you don't mind. And you should go, too."

He nodded softly and released her from his grip. A little embarrassed about her clumsy, genuine try to seduce him, she didn't even push her tits into his face when she got up, lifting herself carefully. He rewarded her self-control with the widest of smirks.

"Thank you, Claire," he whispered. "I'm so blessed to be your brother."

Yeah, that was all he was — her brother, who was currently drinking himself into a coma because Jill Valentine had left him. Claire took another deep breath and raked her fingers through his hair in a mocking demeanor.

"Don't make me worry, you crybaby." She turned on her heel and walked towards the stairs. "There are other girls in the world." And she heard his deep grunt before she reached her bedroom.


	9. Made in Heaven

Admittedly, Chris was having a hard time after Jill's departure. At first, he wouldn't leave his home gym in the garage, spending entire days working out like some chick who had been called fat by her classmates. Claire hated seeing him suffer, of course, but watching him lift weights was an acceptable payment for pampering him the way she did.

At some point, Chris accepted that he was still young and that one heartbreak didn't mean the end of the world. There were so many more to come. And so, it didn't take him long to overcome the first shock after the break-up. Once Jill's presence was restricted to work, Chris seemed to remember all the good stuff he hadn't been doing in months, as well, like arguing with the neighbors, for example, going for a walk on a sunny afternoon or spending some quality time with his sister. Claire couldn't have been happier about his freshly recovered zest for life, as she was the one enjoying him the most. They soon got back to what had been routine before Jill had shown up in their house.

As for Jill, she had come, just as Chris had predicted, the day after the break-up and while Chris was working, with her mood low and her attitude regretful. She'd come with bags and boxes and a big amount of resolution and she had told Claire how broken she was herself and that she hoped neither of the Redfields would hate her for making her choice. Claire had believed her. Jill's statement about her feelings for Chris had been more than just kind, empty words and she was positive that the young S.T.A.R.S. Officer was as saddened over the outcome of their attempt at a relationship as Chris was himself. The two women had covered each other in friendly words and had even hugged before Jill left the house and their lives. It was the last time Claire would see her for a very long time.

After the time Wesker had invaded her fantasies about Chris so forcefully, a hundred thoughts of confusion took over her mind every time they were together and Claire almost feared her weekly meetings with the Captain. She still hadn't understood what the sudden switch of faces in the middle of her pleasure had meant, but she certainly didn't want to find out. She kept visiting Wesker every Friday night, rather for the sake of Chris and his well-being than for her own contentment. She wasn't sure if the blond felt how uncomfortable she was all of a sudden, after being such a willing, obedient puppet during weeks, but if he did, he wasn't including this knowledge in his constant offences. They always followed the same, quiet procedure: she came, she came again, she left, and waited for the next meeting.

That was how summer 1997 passed by, slothful and torrid. Kelly was on vacation in Denmark with her family and Claire was glad she was busy preparing her departure to college, so she could keep her mind from torturing her every time Chris was off working and she wasn't. Visiting the campus and dorms was one of the biggest events that summer, as Claire had never been to such a huge, impressive place full of people. College wouldn't just be a completely new experience to her, it would also be the perfect excuse for her to leave Raccoon City and Albert Wesker behind.

Just a week before she would leave, Chris woke her up on Sunday morning.

"Hey! Claire! Wake up!" He yelled as he burst into her bedroom like an avalanche of excitement. Claire's eyes had barely fluttered open when Chris had already shoved the cover away and was pulling her out of the bed. "Come on!"

Well, there were two ways to wake her up on a Sunday morning: the good one, and Chris'. Grumpily, she threw all kinds of insults at her brother as he urged down the stairs, dragging her after him. Damn, who was he thinking he was? He could have caused her a heart attack with his surly invasion of her privacy. Or worse; he could have caught her masturbating. The thought itself nearly caused her heart to blast in her chest. If she'd had to spend more time in that house than just a week, she'd surely cared to put a lock onto the goddamn door.

"Fuck, Chris, what's wrong? You can't just stomp into my bedroom like this."

But her unconcerned brother only smirked at her.

"Oh please, it was about time you got up." He left her standing in the living room as he walked around the couch and pulled out a large box wrapped in pink-colored paper with golden stars printed on it, and crowned with a shiny, yellow ribbon. Chris gave her the widest smile she'd ever seen on him as he stretched his arms out to hand her the gift. "Here. This is for you."

She hesitated for a moment, her eyes oscillating in quick movements between the happiness spread on Chris' face and the mystery the box contained. Eventually, a smile popped onto her lips, too, as she made a step forward and took the present from his hands.

"What is it?" Claire carefully moved the box close to her ear to hear what was inside. She couldn't make out any rumble in it, though, concluding the content had to be nearly as big as the box itself. "Does it live?"

Chris laughed and shook his head no.

"Just open it! Come on!"

As she was told, she put the box onto the table and began undoing the wrapper with trembling fingers. A gift from Chris to her. What could it possibly be? Once the white carton box was undressed, Claire lifted the cover and inhaled sharply. Tears shot into her eyes almost instantly, burning behind her eyelids like acid, as she stared at the content in disbelief. Inside, there was a brand-new red leather jacket.

"Oh, Chris."

She turned to him while her fingers ran over the smooth fabric. He shrugged.

"I haven't seen you wearing your old one in a while," he explained laughing. "I couldn't find it in your wardrobe either, so I supposed you had lost it and didn't want to tell me."

Now the tears flowed relentlessly down her cheeks and dropped onto the garment in the box. Chris had noticed her jacket was gone. The same jacket she had thrown away after taking it off for Albert Wesker the very first time. And instead of asking, he had simply gotten her a new one; a wonderful, shiny new jacket in a bloody red, her favorite color. Between sobs, there was barely room for a word to come out, no matter how hard she tried. As she stood there and cried her tears into the box, Chris stepped closer and slung his arms around his sister.

"Oh, it's okay," he whispered as she stroked over her messy ponytail. "It was old anyway. I think you deserved a new one."

And the sobs seemed to cease. Claire wiped the tear drops away and sniffed once more before she eventually took the jacket out of the box. It was truly precious. It was a simple red faux leather jacket, with a front zipper in the middle of the chest and at the opening of the three small pockets it had. On the backside, though, it was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen. The whole back was ornamented with the stamp of a hardly-dressed, hot angel in a miniskirt, with little devil horns and wide feathered wings, riding an RPG. Under the picture, some curvy letters drew a line that, casually, was also the title of her favorite Queen album. Claire laughed.

"Made in heaven?" she yelped as she pulled down the zipper and began to push her right arm into the sleeve. "This is beautiful, Chris. Thank you so much."

Her brother just replied with one of his heart-warming laughs.

"Made in heaven, yes! I saw it and knew this was the perfect jacket for you. Oh, and it fits perfectly." Walking around her, he gave her one or two satisfied nods. "Jill helped me pick the size. She was sure this one would do it, and she was right."

Claire cracked a dazed smile at the mention of the brunette. Angling her head to the side, she narrowed her eyes.

"Jill helped you? So, you guys are getting along?"

Chris laughed a little and nodded, as he stretched his arms, crossing them in front of his chest.

"Yeah, we're alright. This was the first time we met out of work, and it went well."

From the look on his face, Claire knew that he was only reluctantly giving up on Jill Valentine, and that there were still feelings towards his coworker that he was trying to hide from the world. She smiled, though, sliding her palms over the soft leather on her upper arms.

"I'm glad to hear that," she whispered. "Thank you for the jacket, Chris. But you should save your money for yourself."

"Oh, I got one for me, too!" Her brother laughed loudly and went to the wardrobe in the hallway, pulling out another jacket. He held it up, showing it to her with a proud smirk on his face. It was a bomber jacket, much larger than hers, of course, held in a dark greyish brown. It had a similar picture of an angel with a rocket launcher on its back, but this one was an attention-claiming, colorful serigraphy. Claire laughed.

"Okay, now we're officially twins!" she exclaimed. Chris pulled on his jacket, too, unknowingly causing his sister to sweat a little. It looked simply amazing on him, she noted as he closed the zipper and spread his arms, causing the fabric to stretch over his shoulders and chest. "Did Jill help you choose yours, too?"

Chris laughed again as he walked back to the box.

"No," he said pulling out a dark case from it. Claire, baffled, watched him as he did. Had she overlooked it in her excitement over the jacket? "But she and Barry helped me choose this."

Claire walked back to him as Chris opened the case to her as if it was a jewel box and her heart began to hammer so loudly, she believed she'd faint. However, it wasn't a necklace or a ring he had gotten her.

"Dear god, Chris!" She exclaimed as her fingertips ran over the object in the case. Carefully, as if it was burning hot. "You got me a gun?"

Her eyes snapped to his, seeing the dark expression on his face.

"SLS 60," he introduced her to her new companion, taking up the gun and pushing the cylinder free from the frame. It was yet unloaded, Claire observed. "It's just a small 5-round revolver, but I think it's a good weapon if you ever need to use one."

Claire hesitated. Chris had taught her how to shoot a gun, but she'd never believed he would actually let her have her own someday and she could barely hold back her excitement. Head-shaking, she gave her brother a challenging smirk.

"You want all the boys in college to stay away from me, don't you?"

Chris smirked sarcastically and thumbed over her cheekbone.

"I just want to know you are safe," he spoke in a calm tone. "And I trust that you won't shoot it just for fun."

Claire replied with another dark look and a headshake. Of course, Chris knew his sister wouldn't be so stupid to shoot her pistol like some maniac. Her lip twitched a little as she finally slung her fingers around the grip and took it up, weighing it in her palm. It was heavy for such a tiny gun, but it lay comfortably in the hand, and it looked like a pretty decent weapon to scare off most of the people who'd want to do her harm. She sighed deeply and looked back at her brother, whose proud look held a little sadness as well, and it nearly broke her heart.

"Thank you, Chris," she whispered and slung her arms around him. "I promise I'll make good use of it."

She felt Chris move uncomfortably in her embrace and immediately knew something was wrong. Her suspicious was confirmed when he pulled back and pouted cutely at her.

"There's something I wanted to tell you," he muttered in a low voice, his eyes avoiding hers. The last time she'd seen him that shy, had been the time he'd confessed that he had asked Jill out. Claire sighed, frowning. Of course, the jacket had been a way to prepare her mood for bad news.

"What is it?"

Chris licked over his lips and offered her to sit at the table with him. Once they sat next to each other he shrugged oddly, causing Claire to pant in concern.

"You know, now that you're leaving for college, this all-" He let his eyes fly around the room. "This all is a bit too big for me alone."

Claire released her breathe. Okay, it wasn't anything bad.

"Are you going to get a roommate, or so?" She nodded eagerly at her own suggestion. "That's a good idea. They could help you pay the bills."

Chris smirked, flinching a bit. He eventually shook his head.

"No, uhm, you'll see. I have been thinking about moving to Raccoon."

Claire ripped her eyes open widely. Moving to Raccoon?

"You mean like renting an apartment?" She asked, at which Chris nodded.

"Yes, I would be closer to work."

And to Jill, she thought, but kept her mouth shut regarding that delicate subject. She forced out a smile as she nodded straightly at him, exaggerating her restrained excitement.

"Of course. Why would you stay here, right? All your friends live in Raccoon City, too." Claire patted his shoulder in a friendly manner. "And Wesker will be happy to have you closer." They laughed.

"I would try to rent this house. It has enough room for a family, and we can store our own stuff in the attic and lock it," Chris explained. "I could use the extra money for your college costs and an apartment in Raccoon isn't that expensive."

Claire received the news with sadness.

"Have you already found a place?" And had he just forgotten to tell her? Chris grimaced.

"I've seen one. It's a good place, but I want to keep searching," he told her and she nodded.

Who was she to deny her brother any comfort or happiness?

"Alright."

* * *

It had been ten years.

Claire stopped the bike next to the road in the warm afternoon sun on that last, lonely Tuesday in August. She hadn't been there since the year before, when she had come with Chris right after he'd left the Air Force. Things had changed so much since then, she thought as she slowly walked over to the wooden cross on the other side of the road. Chris had gotten a new job and new friends. He had found and lost love in shape of Jill. He had grown as a man and as a S.T.A.R.S. Officer. As for herself, she had successfully kept Wesker from spreading her little, unimportant secret all over the planet. Oh, and she would go to college. Smiling at the thought, she bent down in the sand right before the cross.

"Hey Mom, Dad," she whispered, placing fresh flowers onto the ground. Daisies had always been her mother's favorite flowers in life. With her left hand, Claire wiped the dirt and road grit off the cross and the withered letters came to show again.  _James and Anne-Claire Redfield. Never forgotten._  She couldn't hold back a deep sigh as she made herself comfortable on the dirty soil. She was in the exact place where her parents had lost their lives ten years before, there on the road in between the woods in the mountains outside of their hometown. The place lay close to the mountain top and the sights were breathtaking from up there. Nature kissed her skin with a soft, windy hand. It was probably the most beautiful place where anyone had ever died.

The first time she'd visited that spot had been just one year after their accident. Chris had brought her in the middle of the night on his motorcycle, and they'd cried together until sunrise, sharing memories and swearing they'd never forget them. Since then, the siblings had come every year on August 26th to honor their parents and to remind each other how fast things can change. It had become a little harder when Chris had joined the Air Force, but he'd still made it every year to their annual appointment — until this time. This year, Chris had been called to an emergency just an hour before they wanted to leave. Jill was sick, apparently, and Wesker needed all available men that night. They would come to their spot the following day, Chris had said with a sad shrug of his shoulders, and so they would. However, Claire had felt the need to visit that special spot on the special date, even if she had to come alone. "Chris couldn't make it today." Her voice blew softly through the sad smile her lips curved. "But we'll come back tomorrow, I promise."

The petals moved swiftly, imitating the waves her auburn hair drew in the wind as she stared across the city. The breeze began to blow colder up there and Claire zipped her new jacket. She smiled as her hands stroked the leather on her arms, thinking about the past few months. They had indeed brought many changes; some good, some bad; and now she was about to leave Chris to go to college. To most others, it was the beginning of their life. To Claire, though, it was like her life would never be complete again.

"I will miss him so much," she confessed to her parents, drawing circles into the sand with her index finger. "I am excited about college, but knowing Chris will be so far away from me is killing me already." She sighed, noticing how good and relieving it felt to speak to the absent ghost of her parents when there were no pictures they could look at her from. Her irrational and unnatural love for her brother had caused so much damage to herself, and she wondered, just a tiny bit, if things could have changed if James and Anne-Claire hadn't died on that road in the woods, ten years before. A short sob freed itself as Claire leaned forward, her hand reaching for the cross and curling around the wood.

"I'm so sorry I failed you, mom." Her look dropped to the ground in shame, following the lines she had been tracing, until the tears stung sharply behind her eyelids. "I'm so sorry." The silent solitude the woods offered was the best company for those who seek comfort. There, where nobody could hear her, the tears rolled freely, and she even felt relief spread inside her. It seemed to wrap her mind in peace.

"I wish you'd been there to keep me from falling. Fighting this on my own is so hard." Had she ever spoken to anyone that sincerely? It was true. She had stood up to defend her brother and make her own mistakes as good as unmade. But had her mother been there — she could have taught her daughter better. "Can you still be proud of me, Mom?" She sniffed silently. "Dad?" Her sobs eventually ceased, as she felt a wave of serenity blowing from the woods towards her. Maybe that meant her mother had forgiven her.

"Thank you," Claire whispered into the wind as she closed her eyes. Now that she was about to leave, the temptation would cease, too. She would meet new people, and new people meant new opportunities to find love. She sighed. A part of her was enthusiastic and serene over the chance to start her new life, but the other one faced that idea with terror. How could she just forget Chris after so many years of true love? And how would she just leave him on his own? What would happen to Chris once she was gone? Who would have dinner ready when he came home late from work? Who would listen to his stories every night? Who would be there for him when the next best Jill Valentine would leave him destroyed?

It was such a pity they had ended. They had been so happy for a while.

A thought dawned on her and she frowned the last tears on her face away. Her eyes snapped back to the lettered names on the cross.

"Maybe they can fix things," Claire muttered, convinced that there was no one better than Jill Valentine to take care of her brother once she herself was gone. Claire thought a while. Chris had said they were getting along well. Proof was that they had bought the jackets together and he was moving closer to her. With one last kiss she placed onto her fingertips and smeared it over the cross, Claire said goodbye to her parents and swung herself onto her bike again.

Maybe it was time to speak to Jill again.

* * *

The streets were damp when Claire arrived in Raccoon City and her boots made a funny sound as she walked through the puddles. The rain had started falling shortly after she'd left the spot where her parents had died outside of town, making the trip to Raccoon longer than she'd calculated. Jill was sick that night, and maybe it wasn't the right moment to disturb her, but it was a good chance to find the brunette at home—alone. And it wasn't like she had much more time left anyway. Jill herself had once brought Claire to her apartment block, when she'd sneaked into it to get some of her belongings after the firemen had closed access. Claire had stayed outside that day, as Jill hadn't let her come with her into the half-burnt, unstable building, but she remembered and recognized the entrance door easily. The name sign on the doorbell revealed that Jill lived on the fourth floor. It was all she needed the bell for, as a young couple stepped out of the apartment block right after she arrived and gave her the chance to sneak into the hall.

When she arrived at Jill's apartment door, she took a deep breath and knocked loudly.

She waited in vain for a response. Claire licked nervously over her lips. Chris had told her Jill was suffering from food poisoning and that she was currently busy not dying while she was throwing up like a fountain in spring. Maybe Claire should have taken that as a reminder that the brunette was currently unavailable for visits. Her lip twitched slightly in chagrin. She didn't want to wake Jill if she had just fallen asleep, of course, but she still felt the need to talk to her and ask her to look after her brother. Did Jill even know about Chris' plans to move to Raccoon?

With dropped shoulders, Claire turned on her heels and walked back down the staircase. Maybe it was better if she didn't ask stupid favors. Chris was a grown-up, after all, and Jill, who had never had a sibling, was likely to misunderstand her intentions. Maybe she would think Claire was asking her to get back with her brother, or to keep him busy sexually. Those and many more absurd thoughts crossed Claire's mind as she descended the stairs, and she recognized them as her conscience's attempt at calming her nerves over her departure. Chris would be fine, for sure. He was ex-military, strong, funny and extremely good-looking. Chris made friends wherever he went and even if it hadn't been like that, he could perfectly take care of himself.

She walked out of the building and towards the gloomy back alley where she had left her bike. It was now pitch dark in the streets of Raccoon City and it made her wonder how long she had been standing in front of Jill's door, waiting for a response and fighting her own doubts. The keys jangled loudly on the ring while she ran through the rain, trying to find cover under her helmet as soon as possible. She shouldn't have left it hanging unsecured around the handgrip. Acts like those showed how much of a child she still was. A real grown-up wouldn't have offered it so mindlessly to strangers. When she reached her bike, she perplexedly found that the helmet was gone.

"Shit," she hissed, bending down to see if it had just dropped to the ground. The rain was getting stronger and reduced the poor visibility in the dark back alley nearly to zero. Claire got onto her knees and let her hands search blindly for the headgear across the floor. Two running steps were all she managed to perceive before she got hit in the face. The object slammed so hard against her jaw that it was simply impossible to hold back the scream of pain that escaped her lungs. The attack sent her rolling onto her back, where she lay until the daze let go of her. Unfortunately, it was already too late for her to avoid the next assault. Someone grabbed her by the jacket.

"Give me the keys, you bitch!" The assaulter was doubtlessly male, and maybe too young to even be on the street after sunset, but he was strong enough to immobilize her on the ground with one hand, as the other tried to force open the fist she had robotically curled around her keys. "Or I'll kill you!"

Admittedly, the threat wasn't really creative, but it was enough to make her understand that he was after her bike. She huffed out a desperate laugh. The motorcycle had been a gift from Chris and just over her dead body would some scrub who wasn't able to buy one like civilized people take it. Claire struggled nervously; her tongue too numbed to offer a decent insult to her aggressor. They fought on the ground until he managed to turn her arm in a way she feared it would dislocate her shoulder and her hand lost all the will to keep holding on to the keys. A soft cry was ripped from her lips when he eventually took the set from her and turned back to the bike.

"Thank you, precious," he muttered and started the engine even before jumping onto the bike. "Oh, that sounds so good. I'll get some nice money for this baby."

She could have let him drive off and everything would have been over. She could have given up and that scumbag would have gotten her bike and her dignity and she only would have had to tell Chris that she had gotten robbed in Raccoon City. But beyond the fact that she was a Redfield and that nobody would ever attack a Redfield and walk away unpunished, she didn't want Chris to know that she was secretly stalking Jill Valentine to ask her stupid favors. Perhaps this was one of the moments Chris had warned her of. Perhaps, it was time.

Her arm hurt gruesomely when she pulled open the zipper of her jacket and reached for the handgun she kept in her inner pocket. Chris had given it to her right on time, it seemed. Trembling, Claire managed to roll onto her elbow and push herself into an upright position, from where she unlocked the gun. That asshole wouldn't get away that easily. Claire watched him as he turned on the headlight and was just about to swing his leg over the roaring machine. He didn't know it yet, but he had chosen the wrong girl to fuck with. Once on her feet, Claire angled her arms up, holding the SLS60 tightly, with the same resolution she had shown to Chris when he had taught her how to use a gun.

"Get off my bike, you fucking bastard!" She howled through the rain, surprised by the gruff tone of her own voice. The young man turned back to her, and she could see the shock on his face. In the indirect shine of the headlight, she made out his sharp features. He looked like a foreigner, but spoke out an accent-free reply as he put his hands up.

"Hey, okay, I- I get it," he stuttered, cutting the engine and sliding back off the bike. "It's okay, lady, I'm sorry. This- this was just a joke, okay?"

A joke? Claire grunted.

"You better leave before I show you how little taste of humor I have when I get assaulted in the rain," she spoke, trying her best to hide the fear in her words. Her heart was beating furiously in her chest and she feared it would make her voice tremble. The man seemed impressed, but didn't turn away from her. With a nasty smirk on his face, he took a step towards her instead—testing her patience. Claire swallowed.

"Don't make me shoot you," she yelled. "Trust me, you will regret it more than I will."

Fuck, he was coming closer. Claire clenched her teeth as an automatic reaction to the fear that was crawling up her feet. That guy didn't know who he was dealing with—obviously. She was Claire Redfield, the girl who had hit a target at a distance of twenty yards on her first training day, and that scumbag would soon repent having tried to take her bike. She could still hear the shot, the blast she had thrown the can off the fence with, as well as Chris' proud laughter.

_That's my sister_ , he had exclaimed and had made Claire the happiest girl on Earth.

She had hit that tiny can; she could shoot that guy at a close distance effortlessly, she thought as she adjusted her hands around the handle and laid her finger onto the trigger. It would be much easier this time, wouldn't it?

Wouldn't it?

Claire was forced to find that it wasn't. The pictures of herself shooting a human being, of blood and swiss-cheese-like perforated flesh gave her nausea; her agitated nerves weren't helping either. The man laughed sharply. He had come so close he was almost in Claire's reach.

"I swear to god, I will shoot!" But just as she pled the words to come out, the figure took a quick step towards her and hit the gun out of her shivering hands, ripping a yelp from her throat and a beg from her lips as he grabbed her wrist and pushed her into the wall behind her. Claire could swear she heard a rib break, and the pain in her side just reinforced the feeling. The guy pressed her hard against the wall, his knee between her thighs and his forearm pushing hard against her throat.

"You impudent little slut," he gruffly husked into her ear. He stank like alcohol, cigarettes and crime and her eyes fluttered closed as if it would help her cut the stinky smell. "Your daddy should have taught you some manners instead of buying you a gun you can't use." The more Claire struggled, the louder he laughed at her. "All I wanted was your bike, you know? But perhaps I should check what more treasures you're carrying with you." And just as he spoke, his free hand rubbed down her body. "I promise I'll make it quick."

She gasped for air, cursing everything and everyone she had ever met. She blamed Chris for giving her that gun; Jill, for not opening the fucking door; her parents for even letting her get the idea of coming to Raccoon City that night. But, above all, she cursed herself for her weakness. Why the fuck hadn't she just shot that dickhead in the leg? It would have stopped him from advancing towards her; she could have grabbed her keys and driven away with her bike. That would have been the best to do, wouldn't it? All good thoughts came too late, though, she realized, as he found the zipper of her jacket and slowly pulled it down the last remaining inches. Claire yelped.

"Shhhhh," he hissed, covering her mouth with his other hand. "You wouldn't want us to get caught here, would you?"

Tears and rain covered her face and threatened to drown her; that was, if that guy wouldn't kill her first. And she was lucky if he didn't rape her before that. His hands slid into the inner pockets of her jacket with ease, freeing her from all her other belongings. Even the library ID card soon swapped owners, but he didn't seem to care anymore what it was he took from her. The point was to take as much as possible. He kept holding her against the wall, his putrid mouth so close to her face that she feared she would puke, while he began to push his hand under her shirt. Claire groaned in pain when his hand found a place to rest on her ribcage and pressed her harder into her wall. She was certain he had broken her ribs.

"Oh, if your daddy could see you now," he grunted, nearly stroking her breast under her shirt. "What would he do?"

Claire didn't hear him anymore. She kept trying to fight the bastard off, unable to actually understand what he was telling her. Her right leg flew towards his, attempting at making him fall. He groaned, he gasped, but he just used the chance to hit her in the side. Claire's vision blurred and her mind somehow travelled to Chris, hoping he wouldn't blame himself for not keeping her safe. Her heart ached as she thought of him, how he had always wanted her to be happy. Then, another punch hit her, but she didn't scream anymore. She would go down fighting—no doubt— and she promised herself that, if she survived, Chris could never know how easily she had lost the gun he had given her. Anyway, it wouldn't be the first secret she kept from him; this was just another step on her staircase down to the hell of shame. The tears kept flowing wildly and her head threatened to blast under a pain somewhere between dehydration and an overdose of adrenaline.

However, sometimes, she turned out to be luckier than she thought she deserved to be.

"He would definitely end your miserable life, you rat."

That voice; she knew it. Just as she tried to understand what was happening, a loud shot rumbled through the night.


	10. Human

She'd sagged to the ground as soon as the subject had let go of her and her whole body succumbed to gravity. Her eyes fell shut in exhaustion and she allowed herself a moment of weakness. Punches, groans, snarls, and the sound of a body being pulled over the ground followed. Someone had come to rescue her, it seemed, as she wasn't the one who was being attacked currently, but she still wasn't sure who her savior in shining armor was. When Claire managed to look up, she eventually could give a face to the familiar voice.

"Wesker," she gasped as she watched the S.T.A.R.S. Captain stand over the scumbag that had been assaulting her violently just a second earlier. The shot hadn't hit him, but the blond had thrown him to the ground. Blood dripped from his mouth and he showed a toothless grin as he blew more insults at Wesker. Claire couldn't stop herself from shivering like a jellyfish as the blond turned his head to her, just enough to let her know she was the one he alluded to.

"Get into the car, Miss Redfield."

She weakly glimpsed into the direction where she supposed he had come from, finding the rear of his SUV peaking around the corner. Achieving to give him a simple nod, Claire rolled onto her shaking knees and pulled herself up by holding on to a metallic trash container. When she tried to pick up her gun from the ground, Wesker hissed at her.

"I said _into the car_!"

The tone in his voice didn't leave any room for doubts nor defiance. Claire gave the miserable subject on the floor one last glance before she turned around and limped towards the car. It was open, as expected, and she climbed obediently into the passenger's seat.

Once in, she locked the car doors from the inside and released the breath she had been holding all this time. Her side hurt so badly she feared that breathing in too deeply could kill her, half of her face felt numb and she was still shivering. However, she finally seemed to be safe.

The rain didn't let her hear what was going on in the back alley. Also, the remaining tears blurred her vision, so it was hard to see anything through her tortured eyes. Wesker came back in what felt like a century, unlocking the door from the outside and getting into the driver's seat. His clothes and hair were as drenched as her own. He didn't seem to particularly care about it and Claire began to wonder if taking walks in the rain was some of his usual hobbies.

Or what else was he doing out there in the pouring rain?

Shouldn't he be working? Hadn't there been an emergency?

Wesker handed her the helmet, the SLS60 and the rest of belongings that scumbag had tried to take from her. Not even the library ID card was missing. Claire nodded shortly in gratefulness, not able to speak, as the blonde fastened his seatbelt and turned the engine on.

* * *

She had expected him to take her home, but as soon as Wesker chose to drive into the opposite direction, she noticed that she'd misread his intentions. A thirty-minute car ride later, the shiny lights of a motel out of town shone onto her face. Great. He had brought her to a cheap motel. As if the night hadn't been disastrous enough, now she would have to thank him for his assistance.

The motel looked eerie in the pouring rain and the shine of the headlights, but it seemed a clean construction and several cars were parked in front. It was still raining outside, and Claire was cold before she even got out of the car. She followed Wesker to the front desk where a young man with a blue and white checkered button-down shirt and large glasses was boring his fingers into the keys of a typewriter. A noisy fan blew right into his face, making his wispy hair even more disheveled. The entrance looked homey with its wooden floor and the photographs on the walls, and the young receptionist shared a friendly smile with the strangers. While Wesker scribbled some false names into the guest book, the young man gave her a curious glance and Claire wondered if he knew what they had come for. The establishment didn't look like it rented rooms by the hour, but she herself had to look like a prostitute next to this significantly older man by her side. Wesker took the keys to room 5 and they turned back to the door.

The air in the room could have been fresher and cooler, that was sure, but the bed was comfy and the sheets smelled clean. Also, inside, they were safe from the rain and any other dangers. As Wesker closed the curtains, Claire excused herself and went to the bathroom. The image the mirror gave her back was frightening. She looked wasted, with her clothes drenched and ugly bruises on her jaw and neck, where that asshole had hit her, probably with her own helmet. She sighed deeply. Wesker had saved her from the hands of that stranger, but the price she had to pay for his attendance was as disgusting and degrading as being raped in a dark back alley. Claire turned on the faucet and cleaned her face, washing off the last rest of tears the rain hadn't taken care of already, before she took a deep breath and opened the door.

Wesker was sitting in one of the armchairs, wearing an olive-colored T-shirt. His dark vest hung from one of the metal hooks on the door that imitated a coat hanger, the rain still dripping from it onto the ground. He was currently flicking through some menu and restaurant flyers, combing over his head every now and then, as his wet hair strands didn't want to cease falling back into his face. His sunglasses sat on the desk. Claire watched him for a second before she walked from the bathroom door to the bed.

"You should take your clothes off," Wesker said in a dark voice and Claire looked up. He was still sitting in the armchair, still reading. She swallowed and began to remove her jacket, pulling the sleeves off her arms as Wesker was giving her the usual cold attention. It was hard to believe that a mummy like him could actually get a hard-on. Claire tried to pull her shirt over her head and yelped in pain. Her ribs hurt from the hits she'd gotten in the side and lifting her left arm was painfully impossible. Now, Wesker looked up at her and frowned as she insisted, holding her breath until she managed to pull her shirt over her head. Removing the bra would have been equally hard, but Claire just pulled it down to her belly and turned the piece until she could undo the hooks without proving her flexibility. Her wet hair brushed her shoulders uncomfortably and she was cold, the goosebumps on her skin making it evident. She sat onto the edge of the bed to remove her pants, socks and panties. They peeled off with difficulty.

"So," she said, shivering a little, once she'd undressed fully. "Can we make it quick tonight? You might understand that I'm not really in the mood."

Wesker's left eyebrow jumped at her question. He hadn't stopped watching her in silence since she'd complained in pain before. He put the flyers away and got up, moving through the room like a predator. Her eyes watched him as he approached her. He was a beast, a freak, a monster. He knew she was weak and suffering and even so, he kept playing his games with her. He stood behind her, so close she could smell him under the thick layer of rain that lingered on him, and Claire swallowed hard.

One hand was put onto her. In the wrong place; in the right place.

"Ouch!" she flinched as Wesker put his palm onto her left shoulder blade.

"Don't move, Miss Redfield," he commanded. Claire sobbed and stood still as he ran his fingertips over her back and ribs. "Does it hurt when you breathe?"

Did it? Claire tilted her head a little as she breathed in and out, Wesker's hand still on her naked skin. It was uncomfortable, rough and harsh. Nothing hurt, though. She shook her head.

"No," she responded and Wesker let go of her. From one second to the other he was just gone. Claire turned her head a little and saw him emerge from the bathroom with a dark towel in his hands. Stretching it out to her, he gave her a dark look.

"Dry your hair," he said as she took the cloth. It was soft and warm. Claire threw it over her head and began to towel her hair dry. "Your bruises are just that. Bruises," Wesker explained as he walked back to the armchair. "Are you hungry?"

Claire lifted the towel on one edge and glimpsed at Wesker from beneath. Astonished, she shook her head and slowly pulled the towel off her head and shoulders, folding it delicately.

"Shouldn't I…" she whispered shyly, stopping to search for the right words. "Shouldn't I denounce that guy?"

Wesker sat back in the armchair and began to read, not looking back at her.

"He's been taken care of."

She sucked in a breath.

"What have you done?"

He clicked his tongue and crossed his legs. Claire wondered if she had ever seen him cross his legs.

"Miss Redfield, as part of the local authority, my choices regarding that individual were the right ones, you can be sure of that," Wesker replied, completely emotionless.

A little offended, Claire pursed her lips and laid the towel away. It was probably the best if she just ignored what Wesker could have done to that guy, and focused on what he would do to her.

"So," she asked, carefully rubbing her palms over her thighs. "What do you want me to do?"

Wesker frowned at her.

"You should rest." His serious tone surprised her. Claire blinked twice into his direction before he got up and handed her the menu. She reached for it, hesitantly and wide-eyed. "And even though you think you're not hungry, you should eat something."

Her look drifted to the cards and brochures in her hand. The shiny and colorful pictures of the dishes nearby restaurants offered stared back at her and her stomach began to rumble. She bit her lip and gave the menu back to Wesker.

"I will take one of these," she pointed at burger number eight on the menu of a place called B-Palace as Wesker took it back. "With fries and coke." Not very healthy, but regarding the general nature of the offered food, it wasn't such a bad choice.

Wesker just nodded and Claire breathed in nervously. He walked to the phone they had in the room and dialed. After a few seconds, someone on the other end answered and he ordered the meal. Afterwards, he grabbed the bible from the nightstand before he walked back to the armchair and took a seat.

"A hot shower will warm you up," he suggested in a bored voice after staring at her for too long. Claire had remained next to the bed, where he'd left her before, still not quite understanding his plans. "You might catch a cold after walking through the rain."

The redhead rolled her eyes nervously. A hot shower? Was he kidding?

"I'd rather do it first and have the shower afterwards, if you don't mind." She nodded towards the bed and looked back at him. "No need to waste that much water."

He waited before he answered. He waited and just stared at her in his usual, nerve-wrecking arrogance. She held his gaze bravely, challenging him to reply with some debasing comment about her care for the environment.

"Miss Redfield." He eventually recovered his voice. "I think you misunderstand again."

Her face shifted into a dark mask of anger and offense.

"What?"

And Wesker chuckled.

"Yes, I assumed that." He laid the bible onto the desk and bent forward, his elbows on his knees. He looked almost human in that position. Not like someone who had gotten a broomstick shoved up his ass. Claire relaxed, just frowning a bit at him. "You should rest, Claire."

She couldn't quite believe her ears. Had she gotten all wrong before, or was she getting it wrong now? Claire whimpered a bit, searching for the right words to say before she pursed her lips and shrugged one shoulder.

"You don't want to have sex with me?"

Wesker lifted his eyebrows and gave her a bored look.

"I can't think of anything more disgusting right now."

She gasped for air, trying to say something. In his customary insulting demeanor, Wesker had just told her that he wasn't going to touch her. Her view drifted through the room. He had brought her to the motel out of town not because he wanted some privacy for himself, but for her. Ashamed for her wrong suspicions, and a little moved by Wesker's almost fatherly treatment, Claire huffed out a laugh and took up the towel again. Turning back to the bathroom, she gave him a quick glance over her shoulder.

"I will have that shower, then."

* * *

It always amazed Claire how revitalizing such a hot shower could feel. The water poured over her body and the strange numbness in her limbs vanished. Her ribs still hurt, but the ugly pain in her back disappeared and she could feel her feet again. As it rained on her, she thought of the man that was waiting outside. Wesker had saved her, not for his own purpose, but because he hadn't wanted her to get hurt — for whatever reason. He had saved her. Hadn't the blond shown up, that guy could have robbed her, raped her, maybe even killed her; only because she herself hadn't been strong enough. Her hand balled into a fist and met the cold, tiled wall in a precise hit. Chris had taught her everything he knew, and yet she had been so weak she had needed to be saved. As the thought sank in, the tears came back, in rivers this time. And there she stood, crying in the shower of a creepy motel out of town, like another cheap cliché of a damsel in distress.

"You were lucky this time," she told herself under the stream of hot water. "But that doesn't mean you will always be."

She watched her hand, ashamed of how she had dealt with the situation. She could have lost everything that night, defying her opponent when she hadn't been prepared. Claire curled her hand into another fist. That couldn't happen again, she thought to herself. Chris hadn't wanted to raise a defenseless, weak little girl, but a tough, independent woman, worthy the name Redfield — someone who didn't hesitate when it came to important moves like shooting someone in self-defense.

She promised to herself that she would never hesitate again.

* * *

When Claire came out of the bathroom, dry and warm and with a towel wrapped around her hair, the food had already arrived. Wesker had placed the paper bag with her dinner onto the bed. He himself was still sitting in that armchair, flicking through the bible. Claire scanned the room as she approached the bed.

"You haven't ordered anything for yourself," she said. It shouldn't have surprised her, as she'd heard him make the order, but she hadn't really paid attention to that detail before. She had never seen Wesker eat or drink anything in her presence, and she kindly wondered how he would look like doing such normal, human things like stuffing food into his mouth. "Aren't you hungry?"

Wesker glanced up.

"No."

Claire sat on the bed and pointed at the jacket she'd thrown over the backrest of the second armchair.

"There's money in my pocket," she said opening the paper bag and glimpsing inside. "It's not enough to pay for the room, but for the food… I guess it is." She hesitated, shifting a little on the bed as she pulled out the bag of fries. "Take whatever you want, I…"

Wesker looked up and Claire stopped speaking abruptly. What she had been saying was not what she wanted to say anyway. Her lip began to shake, drawing a shy smile onto her pale face as she watched him. So calm he was; so serious; he had showed her the human core inside of him. And she eventually found the words she wanted to say.

"Thank you." Plain and simple, but effective. Long explanations would just have bored him, and he probably didn't care about any of her reasons. Claire smiled a little wider. Just a little, challenging him to react. Wesker glanced back at her, and for the first time since she had met him, it felt like he wasn't judging or making fun of her.

"You're welcome."

* * *

She woke up in the middle of the night, blindly patting the space next to her, searching for the cold wall of her bedroom. It wasn't there. Confused, Claire opened her eyes and blinked into the dim light of the motel room before she understood where she was. Damnit. She had dozed off right after dinner.

Admittedly, she wasn't completely awake yet, but she could see enough to notice that she was alone. She pursed her lips and searched for her watch, an alarm clock on the nightstand or one on the wall unsuccessfully.

"Wesker?" She asked into the room right before she heard the shower turn on in the bathroom.

He was showering.

Claire swallowed dry. Wesker was showering in the bathroom next to her. She thought for a second, without knowing what she was thinking. She just knew that there was something curious about Wesker in the shower and a part of her wanted to check how it looked like when the Captain did such human things like cleaning himself.

Attracted like a bug by the light, Claire got up and stepped to the door on quiet feet. The water was running loudly on the other side of the door and she wondered if Wesker would even notice if she just went inside. Her heart was beating like it was about to explode in her chest. Why was she so nervous? Claire licked over her lips before she turned the handle and pulled the door open, quickly stepping into the bathroom.

Steam filled the room entirely; the shower curtain was closed. Claire walked through the bathroom surprised by the silence. She hadn't expected Wesker to sing in the shower, but how could he make absolutely no sound?

Maybe he was dead or unconscious.

Maybe he wasn't even in there and would jump out of his hideout and startle her with a dry _Miss Redfield_ on his lips. The thought made her look around herself to check if there was any place nearby where he could be hiding. Of course, there wasn't. It was a normal, empty and sterile bathroom and Claire shook her head to get rid of the thought. Wesker wouldn't be that childish, would he?

Would he?

Curiosity killed the cat, they said, and she needed to know if he was there. Claire didn't really know why she was caring that much, but she needed to check if he was alright, or, perhaps, she wanted to check if he was human.

Her fingers shivered as she reached for the shower curtain, ready to move it. She closed and opened her eyes slowly, before she pulled the shower curtain away and peeked into the cabin. The view, awkwardly, took her breath away.

The steam split and allowed her a close look onto his back.

He didn't look like a monster at all; he didn't look very human either.

He was beautifully shaped, with slightly tanned skin covering a whole world of muscles, and toned, wide shoulder blades reaching over his back like dragon wings. Claire couldn't take her eyes off him. He had never fully undressed for her. Actually, this was the first time she saw more than just his hands or his penis jutting out of his pants, and it was hypnotizing. There was a scar on his lower back. It was long and ugly, and even that imperfection was pure beauty on him. Not to speak of his butt, which had her wondering if it felt as hard and muscled as it looked like. A thin line of creamy soap foam ran down his back. He was washing his hair, raking his strong fingers through his blond strands. Claire gasped when she remembered that she had never seen a naked man before. Chris had always been very careful not to show her anything below his waistband and above his knees. Now, Wesker was showing her more than she had ever seen, and she somehow couldn't wait to see even more.

Before she could understand what she was doing, Claire was climbing into the shower, Wesker's back still turned to her. The smell of the cheap hotel soap invaded her nostrils as she stood close to the blond. The water ran over his head and down his back and Claire couldn't stop staring. He was naked. He was naked and her heart pounded. Her heart pounded and she wanted to touch him.

Cold fingers stretched as Claire thought which part of his body she wanted to feel first. It was just fair. He had touched her, too; every single spot on and inside her. By now, he had known her so close that he could surely draw a map of her body from memory, placing every single one of her freckles right where it belonged.

She wanted that, too.

Her hand rose and her breath stopped. She was so close to touching him for the first time — for real — and it made her heart race. He was so close. So near. So human.

So human, it had nearly made her forget how utterly inhuman he was. Before she could put one finger onto his skin, Wesker turned around and grabbed her wrist. One second later, she was pressed against the cold wall tiles, Wesker's hand tight around her throat. Her ribs burnt like fire under the impact, and Claire held back a scream. The water ran over her face and drenched her hair, gluing it to her skin. It had her blinking blindly into his face, before her look descended slowly. His back had been a wonder, but from the front he was a god. So brilliantly toned; not too much, not too little. The wet skin shone brightly as it stretched over his muscles.

Claire wheezed. Wesker's grip around her throat tightened, but it wasn't what was taking her breath away. It was him. She had believed he was an abomination — misshapen, a monster— but she couldn't have been more wrong. Truth be told, he was perfect from the face to the feet, with every curve and edge of his body harmoniously built. Her eyes darted back at his face and she blew out a breath along with some of the water that was still pouring down on her. Wesker's piquing glance hit her, but he didn't speak a word, leaving her longing for it. Claire nearly choked on her own pride as her hand rose and dared touch his forearm, sliding over the thin hair on it. And he let go.

Loosening his grip around her, Wesker allowed her to regain some breath, but Claire couldn't have cared less about air. She wanted to drown in him, to be taken by him and to disappear forever. Her teeth sank into her lower lip as her hand slid up his arm and to his chest. Wesker lifted an eyebrow, obviously disapproving her doing, but it wasn't enough to stop her. The redhead looked at him with wide open eyes, letting her hand make her way over his chest and down his abdomen. He didn't flinch. He just stared, leaving everything to her, as usual. He was so close, now. Would he let her eventually…?

Claire licked her lips, closed her eyes, and, pulling herself against him, she pressed her mouth onto Wesker's. Their lips met in a shy, short peck. And just like that, she had kissed him, quickly and out of nowhere, but he still didn't react.

Claire kept holding on to his strong shoulders as she thought of what she had done. Their faces inches away, she felt his hot breath on her cheek, that deep gaze of his piercing into her eyes. She panted. Her lip shook.

She wanted more.

Before she could think twice, Claire closed the distance between them again, meeting his lips in a deeper, wider kiss this time. She slowly caught Wesker's lower lip between hers and softly suckled on it, until his arm looped around her, carefully taking her up and pressing her into the wall again. And there she was, caught between a cold tile wall and Wesker's hot body. Wet, and not only because of the water that was raining onto them. Claire angled her both legs around his waist as she opened her mouth and pushed her tongue into his.

It was her first real kiss, and just as she was reminded of that detail, she gasped a little, searching desperately for his tongue until his teeth stopped hers from moving. Claire yelped and tried to pull back, her spread lips gasping against his. The blond eventually released her tongue, taking control over their moves immediately. His lips were all over hers as his tongue caressed her deliciously. Slowly, strong, but not too wet; that was how he seemed to like it, Claire understood. She mirrored his moves, stroking his mouth softly with hers. She was a quick learner, after all, and Wesker even seemed to like it.

She felt his erection grow as they kissed, just as she was getting wetter, too. It was insane, wasn't it? After trying to avoid this man all summer long, afraid of his ghost and how her body would react to it, she was now willingly opening up to him, and Chris had nothing to do with it this time. She tried to think of Chris; of his face, his voice, his smile; but it was useless. Even with her eyes tightly shut, her mind was stuck on the man she was there with. Claire whined under the pressure of his body against hers, her breasts delicately tickling over his chest. Her hot breath streamed into his mouth as she explored him with her own lips, and it felt kind of wonderful. Wesker hit his right palm into the wall behind her as his left arm descended to her hips. Steam covered them in its thick coat as the water kept running over their extremely fragile position, but they didn't need any more. Claire moaned into his ears as he caressed along her thigh.

"Fuck me," she commanded, no need to beg. His signature dark chuckle, although weaker this time, underlined his every move. Wesker angled up her leg a little as he reached around her thigh and for his member. He didn't wait any longer. Claire cried against his lips as he dove into her, sharply, deep and hard. So hard. Wesker pressed her against the wall and began thrusting into her, ripping rhythmic sounds of pleasure and pain from her lips every time he went back inside. Her eyes were closed, but her mouth was open. Claire kept licking and sucking Wesker's mouth while he penetrated her bare back, leaving her unprotected, exposed and vulnerable. The mere thought was so arousing it nearly made her come.

He grabbed her butt and pushed her hips harder into himself and himself deeper into her. Claire's head dropped back against the wall and hit it and Wesker used his chance to leave his teeth marks on her neck. She cried, he laughed, and Claire scratched over his perfect shoulder blades. He didn't laugh anymore. He groaned and grunted and pulled her thighs up higher, rubbing her wildly up and down his length. Claire moaned, as everything around them burnt. Her fingers eventually found their way up his neck and raked through his hair, fisting in his dense, wet strands and turning his face back to hers.

He was all over her, tickling and scratching, burning and destroying, as the water kept covering them both. Wesker caught her lips and tongue again. He kissed her until she nearly choked and left her gasping for more when he left her mouth. Claire pressed her face into his neck, his rough jaw covering her temple, as she felt the climax crawling up her body in waves, in oceans of pleasure. She bit his skin, softly, hard.

"I'm coming," she yelped loudly as her body stiffened around his, the whole length of her legs tautly wrapped around his hips. "Come with me."

He didn't chuckle this time. Wesker bored his fingernails into her thigh and increased his pace as Claire began to scream her orgasm into his ear. Ordinary? Who really cared? Pleasure needed to flow loudly out of one's body. Claire reached for the wall behind her and found Wesker's hand on it, putting her fingers onto his as she let her climax slowly die. She panted, he gasped and followed her. Proud, sore and sensitive, she embraced him tightly as he finished, shooting his seed into her inners.

The shower was still running when Claire slowly regained consciousness. Panting, she licked the water off her lips and tried to breathe again. Wesker, still holding her tightly against the wall, reached for the faucet and turned the shower off. The water stopped drowning them, and he left her body, slowly putting her down. Wordlessly, he turned away from her and stepped out of the shower, grabbing the towel and not paying any more attention to her. Claire combed her wet hair out of her face and grimaced in disgust as she felt something warm and sticky run down her thighs. Rolling her eyes, she covered her face with her both hands, laughing nervously at her own, stupid act. That had been mindless. Claire cleaned herself and stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around her body, before she walked back into the room.

Wesker wasn't there. She blinked into the room in confusion. Where had he gone?

The door opened and the blond came back in, fully dressed. He was carrying his car keys and something else. After closing the door, he turned to her and stretched his hand out. It was a blister pack with one single pill in it. Claire grimaced in disgust. She had never seen or taken one but, given the situation, she was pretty damn sure it was a morning-after-pill.

"What is this?" So, this question was actually needless.

"What do you think it is?" He took the glass from the desk and walked into the bathroom, filling it with water. Back in the room, he handed her the glass. "Take it."

Angry eyes pierced into his. Claire cleared her throat offendedly, but grabbed the pill and the water as she didn't want to argue with the blond. She emptied the glass flooding down the contraceptive, and stuck her tongue out, articulating a loud _Aaah_ , showing him nicely what a good, obedient girl she could be. He gave her a dark look and turned back to the armchair.

"So, do you always run around with morning-after-pills?" She chuckled as she dropped onto the bed again. "You know, normal people usually have some aspirin with them." Claire grinned at his cold expression.

Wesker's eyebrow rose.

"What if I tell you that I confiscated that pill from Miss Valentine as she was about to take it the other day in the office?"

Claire's snug smile turned into a face of horrible disgust. Wesker laughed at her and she rolled her eyes. That had been low.

"Very funny," she hissed as she watched him sit down in the armchair again, taking up the bible. "I hadn't taken you for a religious man."

He huffed out a laugh.

"I am definitely not." He put his hand onto the book and looked at her. "But the latest reports I have to read, including another one of your brother's miserable writing attempts, are in the office. And there aren't many more things I could do against boredom."

Claire rolled her tongue over her teeth. He was such an asshole. A very good-looking asshole, admittedly.

"Well, you could talk to me," she suggested, ignoring his constant insults, lifting an eyebrow as he looked at her.

"Miss Redfield," he replied, flicking the bible shut. "Go to bed."

She grunted a little. How could he be such a jerk? Whatever, she wasn't in the mood for small talk with a grave keeper like him anyway. Claire slipped under the covers, turned her back to him and closed her eyes.

* * *

When she woke the next morning, Wesker was still awake, sitting in the armchair. He didn't speak a word to her, and neither did she. Claire got dressed and combed her hair with her fingers as she analyzed the bruises on her jaw and neck in the mirror of the bathroom. She would have to hide them somehow from Chris. Maybe that almost empty make-up tube Jill had left at their home could be of use to her. She left her hair down and walked back into the room. Wesker had already opened the door. Apparently, he was in a hurry. He could have woken her up if he needed to leave, she thought, but he could have also let her sleep in the room in the middle of nowhere without any way to get back home, so she actually preferred having to run now. The young man from the night before had been substituted by an older lady who offered Claire a bagel for breakfast. She declined politely. They checked out and went to Wesker's car.

The ride was as silent as usual. Wesker drove a little faster as the other times, but as it had stopped raining and the sun was already shining brightly, she didn't really care how fast he rushed around sharp curves.

"Your brother's shift ends in half an hour," he explained and pulled Claire back to reality. She had completely forgotten that she was supposed to be elsewhere, and that Chris would get home at some point of the night. She turned her head to him.

"I thought you were just attending an emergency call," she muttered and received an alarming nod from the blond. "Did something go wrong?"

Wesker, however, shook his head.

"Everything went well. Your brother just offered to cover Burton's night shift. He apparently has…" The Captain sighed. "Family issues."

He said the word _family_ it in such a low, disgusted voice that Claire began to figure why he carried emergency contraceptives with him. Relieved that Chris was okay, she wondered what Barry's issues were about.

Wesker drove her back to the place where he'd picked her up the night before, pulling out a small card and money from his wallet and handing it to her.

"Your bike is in an underground parking lot," he muttered, watching the street behind them in the rear mirror, as Claire observed the ticket. "Next time you should take better care of your belongings."

He didn't say it with his typical, sarcastic demeanor. He was serious and seemed almost concerned. Claire shrugged her shoulders and forced a weak smile.

"Thank you," she whispered. "For everything." She cleared her throat and lifted her eyebrows. "You know? I wasn't here for fun," she explained, trying to justify her mindless acts from the night before. "I wanted… I wanted to speak to Jill, because…"

Her voice was trembling as she spoke. She had decided that Jill wouldn't be able to understand her intentions if she asked her to look after her brother and take care of him, so why would Wesker's reaction be any less ridiculing? However, something about the Captain made her want to trust him.

"Are you going to finish the sentence someday, Miss Redfield?"

She gulped down the knot in her throat.

"Can I ask you something weird?" Her voice was trembling when she pressed out the words, waiting for Wesker's response. It came in shape of a nod once he'd slid the shades to the tip of his nose. "You know that I'll soon be off to college, right? Would you… please… watch out that Chris doesn't do anything stupid in my absence?" It was the best way she could articulate her question without actually asking him to look after her brother. Wesker huffed out an annoyed laugh.

"I am not your brother's babysitter, Miss Redfield," he said coldly as the sunglasses were pushed back into place. "But, if it helps you ease your nerves, no one has ever died under my command. Neither on nor off-duty."

She smirked. It wasn't exactly the response she had wished for, but it was as good as a promise that he wouldn't let anything bad happen to Chris. Her look dropped and she felt the corners of her mouth shape a smile.

"Thank you, Wesker," she whispered, caressing the parking lot ticket he had given her. After everything he had done for her in the past hours, she felt the need to reward him. "So, this Friday is our last one together. Do you have any… wishes… for this last time?" She asked shyly and felt like a high-class prostitute taking orders. Wesker, however, kept steady. He slowly turned to her.

"Miss Redfield, I think you should rest and take care of your bruises," he replied and left her speechless. "Also, if you are leaving on Sunday, you should probably get ready for your trip." Claire's lips shook a bit as she heard him speak. He lowered his head and his eyes darted at her face over his sunglasses. "You don't have to come anywhere on Friday."

Claire couldn't believe his words. Wasn't he taking his last chance to take advantage of her body? Had he eventually gotten tired of her? She was free, it seemed, but she still needed confirmation that her secret would remain untold.

"I see," she said, searching for the right words. "But, about all this… Chris… he can't know…"

Wesker blew out a breath.

"And he won't, Miss Redfield." His tone had gone back to frighteningly dark. "So, if you excuse me, now…"

She shivered. He was getting rid of her, having gotten back to his offensive, nerve-wrecking attitude. Hadn't she gotten to know him a little more, she would have felt insulted.

"Will you miss me?" She asked, not really knowing why she cared so much about it. "A little, at least?"

He grunted.

"Miss Redfield, what makes you think there is anything about you I would miss?" With these words, breathed in a smoky voice, he eventually dismissed her. Claire opened the door and jumped out of his car. Before she would close the door and let him leave, she turned around.

"Yeah, you will."

Wesker drove off, headshaking, leaving Claire standing on the street, at the start of a new day and a new life.

* * *

_I know what you think._

_You think I was in love with him._

_Yes, at some point, I wished that, too. It would have made things much easier, despite being an impossible relationship itself. However, I knew that Chris was the only one who'd ever have the whole of my heart._

_I genuinely believed I would never see Wesker again, not knowing how wrong I would be. Four days after that night, I left for college, leaving Chris behind, as well as my hometown, Raccoon City and Wesker._

_Everything went well for one year. College was great. Not as exciting as I had imagined, maybe, but the classes were interesting, even though I shared them with a handful of very lost, very snobby people. I hadn't imagined to come across so many shallow fellows studying art. Anyway, I made a couple of friends and we went to see museums and concerts together. I had a great time._

_I came back home for Christmas, for Chris' birthday and for mine. I had hoped my time in college would change anything about my feelings for Chris, but every time I came back to him, I just felt more attached to him. His hair had grown a little and he had gained some weight. Not around the hips, but his arms, and he looked simply wonderful._

_I knew that it was wrong to come home during summer. I got myself a cheap summer job in my college town and avoided having to go back to Chris. It hurt to be so far away from him, but I knew it was the best for all of us, also because I wouldn't accidentally run into Wesker again. However, this way I was also kept away from the truth about Umbrella and that fateful night in July 1998, when Chris, Jill, Barry and their teammates ran into that mansion in the Arklay Mountains, and discovered Umbrella's and Wesker's dark secret._

_Chris went to France not long after that. He had decided not to tell me anything before he'd come back. As I was busy with the job and with the soon-starting classes anyway, he believed I wouldn't notice that he wasn't calling me for several weeks._

_He was such an idiot._

_Of course, I noticed. I called him, but received no answer. So, on a warm September day, I jumped onto my bike and drove back to Raccoon City. I expected Wesker to have him working too hard and was ready to face the Captain again. Almost a year had passed since our ways had parted and I had grown up a little more. I knew I would be facing something inhuman again. I just didn't know how much of it I would really get._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [Corpasite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corpasite) for helping me with this chapter. Go read his Cleon stuff. You won't regret it.


	11. 1998

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait. July is always a tough month. Please enjoy our personal rewrite of the RE2make (or, at least, a part of it). The dialogue in the opening scene is not ours, of course, so let's all say thanks to Capcom for great lines like "Now way... Can't be alive."

 

"Hello? Anybody here?"

The darkness inside the convenience store of that gas station was preoccupying. It was supposed to be open, so why the fuck wouldn't they just turn the lights on? It would certainly help attract customers in the middle of the night. The flashlight she'd picked up from the ground came in handy and Claire could slowly advance through the shadows.

"Hello…?"

Someone groaned in the darkness and Claire shone the flashlight around the store and into the corridor in front of her. Its weak shine led her around the shelves, from which cans and other goods had been simply thrown off recklessly. Claire inhaled sharply as her eyes met the pool of blood on the ground, unable to hold back a silent  _Holy shit_.

Something bad was going on there, that was clear. Hadn't there been a police car parked outside? Great! She was running into some drunkard's robbery her first night in Raccoon City after five or six months. Maybe it was best if she just turned on her heels and walked away. Not that she feared what she could possibly find in there, but Chris would get so mad if he found out she had put her life at stake so mindlessly.

Before she could reconsider, Claire turned around the last row of shelves and found an older man on the ground. He was hanging against the wall and his blue shirt had large, ugly blood stains all over it. Claire ran the last steps towards him and dropped to one knee. The name sign on his shirt seemed to indicate that he was the attendant.

"Are you OK?" Again, one of those stupid questions she had been asking way too often lately. Claire had a closer look at the man, who was busy pressing his hand onto the source of blood—a huge wound on his shoulder. That didn't look good, Claire noticed. It was completely torn open and made her wonder how the man had even gotten that kind of injury as it didn't quite look like a bullet wound. "Oh, fuck. What happened?" she asked and looked around the shop, searching for the phone. She had to get him to a hospital as soon as possible.

The man grunted in pain. Without even looking at her, he simply pointed at the door next to him and made Claire look up. Frightening noises emerged from the other side and Claire had to swallow hard before she got back onto her feet. Maybe someone needed her help.

"Wait here. I'll check it out," she advanced and slowly walked through the door into a narrow corridor. It was a back storage, full of non-refrigerated soft-drink bottles and empty boxes. It seemed to lead to another ajar door, which had a fluorescent light flickering above it with that annoying buzzing and clicking. Claire felt her heart pound hard in her chest and guided her right hand into the inner pocket of her jacket, where it curled around the grip of the SLS60. She had never used it. She hadn't even needed to show it to anyone since that fateful night the year before, when Wesker had needed to save her ass. However, it seemed that the moment had come for her to eventually show the world that she wasn't a defenseless little girl anymore.

The door behind her fell shut. Claire sucked in a sharp breath and turned back.

"Hey! What the hell…?" Her hand punched the door violently. That ass of a shopkeeper had just locked her in the fucking backroom of his gas station. She clenched her teeth as her blood began to rush even faster through her veins. What the fuck was wrong with that guy?

Another grunt emerged from the door at the other end of the corridor and made her turn around in shock. Alright. If this way was blocked, she'd find another way out. Resolutely, she held her gun ready and walked towards the door, pushing it open slowly.

"I said hold still."

In the weak shine of the flashlight, Claire wasn't able to distinguish what was going on in the back office of the shop. If so, she would have never interrupted the Sheriff in his task of holding back the creature that was trying to eat him.

"Excuse me, is everything OK?" And so, she spoke out the words that signed the death warrant of that poor guy. The Sheriff turned his head toward her, giving her a sign to Stay. The. Fuck. Away.

"Stay back ma'am, I got this." It was the last thing he'd ever say. Because what he really got was death. The man behind him turned him around with ease, pushing him onto the ground instantly. Claire had barely time to mouth a quiet  _Oh my God_ , before she witnessed how the blood splattered all over the ground around them.

"Get off him!" she yelled, her fingers grabbing the SLS60 so tightly she thought her palm might merge with the metal. The thing, however, didn't react to her pleading and kept ripping the Sheriff's neck apart. "I said GET OFF HIM!"

And everything began to make sense—somehow. The shopkeeper's bloody neck, the grunting, and all the blood. Claire swallowed hard as she watched the creature rip a piece of flesh off the Sheriff's neck with its mouth.

A zombie!

A motherfucking zombie!

Claire yelped a bit as the creature turned its head up and put its empty, glassy eyes onto her. Skin was pale grey and wrinkled; teeth were shining through a lipless grin. And there was all that blood! This was a joke, right? Someone was playing tricks on her.

The thing stumbled onto its feet and Claire intuitively took a step back.

"Don't come any closer!" she screamed at the creature, not really believing it would actually listen to her. She raised the gun instead, remembering the time she had been too weak to help herself and how she had sworn that it would never happen again. "Fuck it" she hissed and aimed for the head. The first shot hit the target directly between the eyes, causing it to stumble back. It regained balance pretty quickly, though, and kept advancing towards her. Following the pace set by her pounding heart, Claire shot again, with a similar result as the first time. Just as she began to consider shooting another part of its putrid body, a third bullet bored itself into its skull and the zombie fell to the ground.

The question if this was real or not still sat deeply as Claire walked past the dead Sheriff and the zombie corpse, after catching her breath again. In any way, she needed to get out of there as soon as possible. The shopkeeper wouldn't be likely to set her free, she assumed, especially if he had been bitten by that creature himself. Claire stared at the dead body she'd just taken down and couldn't help but shiver in both disgust and shock.

Zombies weren't supposed to exist, were they? So, what the fuck had she just witnessed? Turning her head away only reluctantly, she glimpsed around the next corner, spotting something like an office at the end of the corridor the shelves formed. Claire took a second for herself to listen to the surroundings. Nothing seemed to grunt anymore around her and she decided to have a look at the office.

She found nothing more than papers on the messy desk. On the wall, however, in the case next to all the pictures of girls in bikinis, she spotted a tiny key labeled with the words  _storage room_ , which seemed to be her ticket to the outside. Without hesitating further, Claire grabbed the key and ran back from where she had come, nearly tripping over the zombie.

It grunted again when her foot hit its arm.

The sound seemed to make her heart sag down, crash against her stomach and turn her bowels apart.

"No way… Can't be alive." Those two tiny, useless phrases were all she managed to mumble before she held her weapon up again. From the corner of her eye, she spotted a door she hadn't seen before, but her basic orientation skills told her it had to lead to the front store. Maybe the key worked there.

She quickly ran towards the door and slipped the key into the lock. It fit so she turned and opened the door, allowing her to run back into the shop. The smell of putrid flesh almost knocked her out. Had it stunk that bad before? She decided she'd attempt to chide the shopkeeper on their way out and stomped towards the corner where she'd found him before, shattered by the certainty that he had turned into a zombie, as well.

Turned. Infected. Zombified.

"It's like… a nightmare."

Before he could even stumble towards her, Claire swallowed and turned on her heel, slaloming around racks, counters and zombies that tried to eat her. One of them threw over an empty metal display stand, hitting her in the side. She winced, but kept staggering restlessly towards the door, which was only two steps away. She would make it out of there.

Before she could reach the door, though, someone pushed it open from the outside. She had barely enough time to react before she saw the barrel pointed at her face and immediately rushed her hands into the air.

Could zombies fire a weapon?

"Whoa, don't shoot!" It was all she could yelp to identify herself as  _still alive_.

The face in front of her wore a dark grimace, but it wasn't the one she'd seen on the zombie who'd feasted on the Sheriff's neck before. It was human. Thank god it was human.

"Get down!" the young man commanded and Claire dropped to the ground, hearing a loud shot and feeling blood splatter onto her back and around her right afterwards. A second later something fell to the floor behind her and Claire risked a glance at the zombie that had nearly meant her death. She got up. There was no time to waste.

"We gotta get out of here," she told the young man and rushed past him out of the shop, soon hit by a frightful vision of an overrun gas station. When she turned to her right, her savior stood right next to her.

"You alright?" he asked as he raised his gun again. Claire looked at him, now able to make out his features in the outer light of the station. He was even younger than she had expected—maybe a couple years older than herself. Rather a boy than a man. He wore a dark leather jacket and blue jeans and a haircut that looked like it had been precisely shaped for hours in front of a mirror. She nodded.

"Yeah… I think so..." Maybe she should add a statement of gratefulness. "Thanks." Good. Simple, but effective. The boy frowned at her.

"You can thank me later, when we're safe."

He was probably right. Claire nodded and turned back to the horde of zombies that was awaiting them like a wall.

"Holy shit…" She exhaled completely, trying to figure which of the approaching undead she'd shot first. Her companion seemed to have the same problem, as his lifted gun swung from one head to the other like the second hand of a watch. When something shattered against the glass of the door behind them, and the noseless face of one of the infected was trying to reach them through the closed door, they both realized they wouldn't have enough bullets to take them all down.

"Come on!" the boy called and blinked at the police car that had been wildly parked in the middle of the yard. It had to be the Sheriff's Claire assumed as she followed him to the vehicle, dodging the threatening creatures as best as she could. "Get in!" he commanded just as she was busy fighting off one of the zombies that had grabbed hold of her. She managed to jump into the passenger's seat right before he could start the engine.

"Hold on!" he yelled and she wondered if a warning had ever had that much of a purpose. When he hit the gas, Claire had barely just gotten her seatbelt fashioned. She began to wonder how old he really was and if he even had a driver's license. Admittedly, it was hard not to run over any of the zombies on their way back to the road, but it was as hard to tell whether he had dodged them on purpose or aimed for them and just missed.

Bad driver or not, he drove them away from the gas station and towards the Raccoon City center. Once on the road, Claire relaxed a bit in her seat.

"What the hell is going on?"

The boy next to her shook his head.

"I don't know… Hopefully they'll have some answers at the police station."

Police station… He'd said police station. Was he going there?

"Wait, you're a cop?"

Claire wasn't sure how she'd gotten to that conclusion. Going to the station was probably just the right thing to do, as the police would be the first institution to know how to behave. Maybe that kid just knew more than she did and survivors were led to the police station for shelter and safety. Claire eyed him. He didn't look like a cop at all. However, it seemed she had been right.

"Yeah," he replied, almost smiling proudly as if he'd been the only one among his special education class who had made it that far. "Leon Kennedy. You are…?"

She blinked at him, considering how dumb it really was to tell him her name. He was, so far, the only living being in she'd found in this godless hell, which was suspicious enough for a young man who claimed to be a cop without a uniform. Anyway, he had saved her life, hadn't he? And if her insignificant name was everything he asked for in exchange, she would let him know.

"Claire," she said, and even her name sounded so unreal that she preferred repeating it before adding her last name. "Claire Redfield."

Leon nodded.

"Live around here?"

She gasped a bit, trying not to roll her eyes at his question. Was that supposed to be small-talk?

"No," she eventually replied, turning back to him. "Looking for my brother. He's a cop, too."

And she expected him to ask her who her brother was, as they practically worked together. However, he kept quiet, leaving her alone with another dreadful thought.

What happened to Chris?

Her stomach turned and she felt the need to throw up. Was Chris alright? Was this infection-thing the reason why he hadn't called her in over a month? Claire couldn't help but wince at the thought, hoping Leon would drive to the station as fast as he could.

Maybe Chris was there.

Maybe Jill or Barry were.

Maybe Wesker was…

"Well, it's a good thing we found each other." She heard Leon's voice and turned to him. Yes, he was right. It was a good thing indeed.

_Of course, by that time, I didn't know yet that I had run into a rookie cop on his first fucking day as a Raccoon City Police officer, and that he had come even though he'd gotten orders to stay away. Maybe that's what they call karma. Hah! I learned that it had been no one less than Chief Irons who'd tried to avoid the entrance of outsiders. It was a nice move, admittedly, given the fact that he had let the virus consume the whole goddamn rest of the city he had sworn to protect. The detail about Irons' reaction just got me more nervous. For how long had they known people were turning? What the fuck was going on in that motherfucking place?_

_And where the hell was Chris?_

"I'm gonna find you."

* * *

Running into an infested city looking for your brother—check.

Getting separated from the ONLY goddamn living person you were going to come across in that motherfucking place because an 18-wheeler wrecked the car you were escaping in—check!

Getting to the police station—through the fucking backdoor—and being ignored by the ONLY goddamn living person because he apparently finds it cool to hit on you instead of finding a fucking key to let you in—double check!

Eventually getting into the fucking police station without the stupid kid's help, only to find the place overrun with zombies ANYWAY—Triple god-damn-fuck-this-shit check!

By the time Claire reached the showers, she was sure she had already fulfilled all of the requirements to become the heroine of the next best zombie film to be made. She had given herself access to the Eastern corridors of the police station, only to find that somebody—maybe Leon, probably not Leon—had already taken care of most of the undead there. They had also emptied all of the ammunition cases she came across.

Whether it had been Leon or not, they were now perfectly equipped while she herself had killed the last zombie that attacked her by throwing him over the railing of the staircase and onto the ground below. She wasn't sure if it was really dead, but was there anything in these corridors that would just die anyway?

Just as she placed the round handle into the valve and turned off the steam that was blocking her the access to the other side, she saw someone hanging lifelessly on the wooden bench in the men's locker room and lifted her gun. As she stepped closer, though, the body simply sagged off the bench and hit the ground.

"Oh my god," Claire gasped as she saw the face that was staring at the wall with dead eyes. "Not you."

It was Cory Pratchett, the young officer who had once so nicely helped her speak to Wesker. Realizing that all of them, without exception, had met such an awful destiny made her fear whatever was awaiting her in the S.T.A.R.S. office. Claire gasped for air as she checked Cory's pulse, not sure what she was doing it for. He was doubtlessly dead. Not turned, not infected—just dead. His neck was broken and a small trail of blood flowed from his ear down to his jawline. Claire sighed, almost in relief. It was good to know that there were people in the station who had been given a human death, even if it came violently and prematurely. It seemed that there were indeed people who just died in there. Saying a silent prayer, which she had done way too often for a non-religious person that night, Claire closed Cory's eyelids and thumbed over his cheek.

"I will get them, Cory," she whispered. "Whoever caused this. I will get them and I will punish them in your name, too." She searched the lockers for ammunition or other useful items, before advancing towards the corridor that led to the S.T.A.R.S. office, the dreadful question about Chris' well-being always on her mind. Her heart shrunk a bit as she saw two more corpses on the ground, lying in a pool of their blood as the center piece of that obscure scene of violence and gore. Claire's fingers curled tightly around the flashlight and the handle of the SLS60 as she began to move forward, the sole of her boots leaving marks in the already sticky blood. A quick flick with the flashlight over the face of the first corpse made her gasp in relief and guilt. It wasn't Chris nor anyone else she knew. It was just another poor soul that had found a horribly brutal and undeserved death.

She didn't get to check the second body. Before the flashlight could hover over it, something long and sharp whipped down from the ceiling and darted into the dead flesh on the ground, sprinkling more blood onto the walls and ground around it just to keep the walls nice and wet.  _Yuck._  No matter how much she'd feared what had been waiting for her in the S.T.A.R.S. office, it quickly became her only goal as she caught sight of the claws that seemed to fly towards her. What it was exactly wasn't clear, but given the general nature of the current residents of the building, it could be nothing good.

In a couple of strides, she'd reached the office, releasing a tiny gasp of relief as the door gave in and granted her entrance to another moment of safety and clarity. In just one second, she had made sure there was nothing even bigger waiting for her in the office, and she kept herself busy pushing her back against the door leaf, holding it closed as the claws on the other side tried to scratch through it. Just as she thought if it was a good idea to stand so close to the fragile door, her hand found the key in the lock. She quickly turned it and stepped away from the door.

"Thank god," she hissed, wiping the sweat off her forehead. She had found just a couple of rooms with lockable doors in the whole station. Those were the only places in the whole building where she was safe from the zombies that, somehow, even managed to open doors in their everlasting hunger. Claire didn't stop watching the door, ready to shoot whatever might blast through, until the claw-thing on the other side seemed to lose interest in her. She released her breath and granted herself a second to close her eyes, feeling like she hadn't blinked in hours.

Once relaxed, she began to inspect the office. She was, indeed, alone. None of the S.T.A.R.S. members—dead or alive—were there waiting for her. She sighed as the disappointment crawled into her limbs along with the fear. A part of her still had faith she would find Chris there, but she would have to keep searching, hoping and speaking prayers of nonsense. What she found there, though, was his bomber jacket, with the angel on the back. It hung on the wall, watching over the desks and the guitar, which was still in the same place where she'd seen it last time. Something in Claire's stomach seemed to feel like crawling out when she approached Chris' desk in the corner. He wouldn't have left it there on purpose, would he? She couldn't hold back a tear, but soon wiped it off with the back of her wrist. She ran her hand over the jacket instead, feeling the cold fabric under her shivering fingertips as she leaned closer. She inhaled deeply. The jacket smelled like Chris. It had his name and spirit written all over it. Claire didn't even notice how the tears started to flow freely again as she nuzzled her brother's jacket as if it was Chris himself. God, she missed him so much. She should have never left him alone in this goddamn city. Who knew where he was or how he was or whom he was with? What if she didn't find him? Her fingers curled tightly into the jacket as she tried to push the evilest of thoughts away—the one she had been fighting off all the time since she'd gotten into this city.

What if she found him turned?

What would she do if he wasn't Chris anymore and tried to kill her? How would she react to an attack coming from her own brother; the person she loved the most in the whole fucking world? Would she be able to put a bullet through her brother's head if her own life depended on it? The sheer thought seemed to gnaw on her sanity as she clung to the jacket on the wall and wet it with her tears. She was so tired, knowing that the only thing that kept her on her feet was the will and hope to find Chris—alive.

Claire flicked her tongue over her dry lips as she forced her thoughts away from that consuming idea. Even if she found him dead, killed or even turned, Chris would never ever want her to give up fighting. And she wouldn't have to, anyway, because Chris was alive, somewhere waiting for her to appear to receive her with the warmest of hugs and a big  _I love you_  on his lips. She gave herself a recomforting nod as her hand stroked the leather, searching for advice and a shot of resolution. However, all she got was the irrational idea to take Chris' jacket and his guitar and run away with them. Luckily, she was able to force herself to discard that ridiculous thought quickly. Survival was priority, and just as they'd been told to leave all their belongings in the classroom in case of fire at the campus, she was not supposed to pack anything superfluous that would just occupy space she needed for weapons and ammunition—that was, if she found any.

_Focus, Claire. Focus._

She dried her tears, took one deep breath, and turned to the rest of the desks. Full of stacks of papers, empty boxes and other miscellaneous stuff, the whole S.T.A.R.S. office looked as if a hurricane had blown through it; even messier than she remembered it. It was a miracle that she found a first aid spray, a flash grenade and flame rounds among all the trash thrown across the work spaces. In the corner next to the armory, she found a small case of ammo and the confirmation of whom had been wandering through the station only a few steps ahead of her.

_Claire,_

_I hope you get this._

_This place is crawling with monsters,_

_and your brother's not here._

_Just get out of here as soon as you can._

_I really hope you're safe._

_Leon_

Claire held her breath as she read the note. What did Leon know about Chris? What did  _not here_  exactly mean and, if he wasn't  _here_ , where was he? She clenched her teeth. Her throat seemed to draw shut and oxygen became a luxury she couldn't afford as she went through all the possibilities Leon's note could point at.

"Chris, where are you?" Claire whispered to herself and walked back to her brother's desk absentmindedly. Maybe there was a clue about his whereabouts. She pulled open drawers, searched the pockets of his jacket, tried to get into his computer, but she found nothing. It wasn't until she turned to the desk on the right that she became aware that the key to finding him wouldn't be among his own belongings, but with someone else.

She found his letter in a folder on Jill's desk, stuffed between maps and scribblings.

_To my bestest S.T.A.R.S. buds,_

_How are you all doing in that drab, old station? Hanging in there against old Irons? Me? I just got back from a date with a hot chick. Bet you can guess what we got up to under her extra-large umbrella._

_Europe is amazing. One month is in no way enough to even scratch the surface. Maybe I'll extend my vacation for another six months._

_Barry, don't you even think of coming to join me. Wouldn't want to make all the cute girls cry, yeah? So, you just leave the babes to me._

_Jill, if Claire tries to contact you, please let her know I'm OK._

_Chris Redfield, August 29_

Claire finished reading her brother's note with trembling limps, unsure what piece of information in it was more upsetting. Chris was in Europe? Without telling her?

"You better bring me a souvenir," she hissed as the tears flushed back into her eyes. Why hadn't he told her about his vacation? Was he there because of the European girls? Of course, the little sister would be in the way on such a trip—just as she had been while Jill had lived with them. Before the thought could start crawling deeper, Claire forced herself to focus again. No. Lord, no!

"Chris would never talk like this," she whispered comfortingly to herself. Even if he was with some girl, he wouldn't tell Jill about them. And what was that comment about Barry leaving the  _babes_  to him? Barry had family and two adorable kids. Something was definitely wrong about this note. Claire's look waved to Wesker's private office. Irons? Chris asked about Irons. Why not Wesker?

Claire folded Chris' letter and kept it in her inner pocket before she walked over to Wesker's office where the huge S.T.A.R.S. emblem on the wall looked down on her with judging seriousness. Something was different about the room, though, much beyond the fact that it was almost empty. Where were all the papers and reports he usually had on his desk? Now, she only found a small battery and slipped it into her hip pouch, wondering if it would help her activate the detonator.

Claire walked around the office and soon spotted a picture of the two S.T.A.R.S. teams on the stand behind the desk. That photograph was new. It hadn't been there the last time; she would have remembered. Her index finger reached out and flicked softly over Chris' face. He looked so handsome and so happy in this picture, and she missed him so, so much. Was she ever going to find him again? What if she was the one who didn't make it out of the station?

"Be strong, Claire," she told herself, attempting unsuccessfully at imitating Chris' voice. "You can make it."

Taking another deep breath, she turned around and dropped to her knees and began searching the drawers. Nothing but papers and useless stuff lying around, plus a spare pair of shades in the upper drawer. Claire couldn't help but try them on, just to see if there was anything unusual about them—if they gave him night vision or an X-ray look. Nothing. It was a normal pair of sunglasses. He probably just used them to hide his eyes when he gave young girls indecent glances, she almost giggled when she remembered the few times she had ripped an almost human response from him.

The last drawer of his desk didn't open, Claire noticed soon, and began to inspect the lock on it. She had practiced lockpicking ever since Jill had taught her how to, and she had become pretty dexterous with homemade lockpicks made of hairpins and stronger paperclips. With the available objects, she could easily craft a simple tool to which the tiny lock on the drawer was no challenge. Once the drawer slipped open, though, she felt her heart sag down.

"What the fuck is this?" She hissed at the picture of a young girl in a tight R.P.D. training suit and a pose that looked pretty painful—and lascivious. She was sitting cross-legged on the ground, carrying a basketball in her lap, and her arms stretched back behind her head. Claire grimaced. That girl couldn't be older than herself. Had Wesker gotten himself an underage substitute for her? She shook her head. That girl was wearing R.P.D. clothes. She probably just  _looked_  very young—and very beautiful, despite her boyish look. Claire inspected the picture, touching it as little as possible with the very tips of her fingers. The backside of the photograph was labelled with the words  _Rising rookie_.

So, he didn't just stare at young girls. He took pictures and threw them basketballs and made them pose in tiny R.P.D. training garments. She pouted. He had never made  _her_  pose for him. Pushing away the feeling of jealousy, Claire threw the picture back into the drawer and kicked it closed. This wasn't supposed to upset her. Albert Wesker and his desk were part of her past and she hadn't come because of him anyway.

She had come because of Chris, and Chris, apparently, wasn't there anymore. Claire pulled out her handgun and checked her loaded ammunition count. If Chris wasn't there, there was no need for her to stay any longer. Resolutely, she walked back towards the door of the S.T.A.R.S. office. Maybe Jill and Barry were still in town. If they were, she would have to find them.

Claire put her ear against the door and listened. The claw-thing on the other side really seemed to have given up on finding and eating her, as she couldn't hear the slightest of grunts in the corridor. Gun up, she turned the key and unlocked the door carefully. The corridor was pitch-black and she had to click on the flashlight again to check the situation and not run into the claws of that monster. She waved the ray through the corridor and found the monster hanging from the ceiling. It was a skinless being on four legs, with a huge, brain-like lump on its head—right there where the eyes were supposed to be. When she became aware that the creature was, apparently, blind, she had already been shining the flashlight onto it for way too long because of the shock. She had been lucky again. Wait… hadn't there been a note someone left…?

Carefully, Claire stepped out of the S.T.A.R.S. office, giving Chris' jacket on the wall one last loving look, and turned to the left. If she wasn't wrong, the corridor would lead her eventually to the library and back into the lobby. It was silent around her. Only the rattling noise the claw thing made when it stretched its nose out filled the corridor. It was deadly silent… So silent, she almost didn't hear the stomping footsteps that came from the other end of the corridor. Claire sucked in a breath in expectation, momentarily numbed by the sound. When she managed to blink again, the immense humanoid figure in a trench coat was already turning around the corner and advancing towards her with loud, heavy steps.

Screaming was a bad idea, wasn't it? Unfortunately, so was running. Claire looked up to the ceiling, from where the claw monster slowly stuck its tongue out, reaching for whatever it might find in its consuming darkness. If it found her, she'd be hamburger meat in a second, but the mister in the trench coat didn't look like he'd just pass her by either. She needed to get out of there as quick and noiseless as possible. Without losing sight of her followers, she slowly stepped back, her gun tightly in her hands. The stomping giant came threateningly close. If she didn't start sprinting, he'd soon reach her, and those enormous hands looked like they could simply squeeze her to death. She turned on her heel and began to move quickly towards the showers.

How could she have forgotten the dead body on the floor?

She tripped over the cold limbs and fell, hissing slightly. Just as she landed on her knees, a shrill scream of agony and hunger reverberated through the corridor and something began to whip across the room in fury. The claw thing had lasheded its tongue out, searching for the source for the disturbing noise, and the footsteps of the trench coat guy were now so close she felt the whole ground tremble.

"Shit!" Claire leapt back onto her feet, pushing away all doubt and fear, and ran to the door in front of her. Before she could reach the handle, though, something swooshed across the room, next to her ears, and impacted against the wall. In shock, she squeezed her eyes shut for a second. The moment she dared open her eyes, she felt the stinging pain boring deep into her shoulder. And she screamed.

"Fuck!"

She'd been thrown to the floor and was now struggling with the monster. Its long, sharp claws kept her down as it clicked and rattled seductively into her ear, telling her how tasty it found her. She was trapped like a cheese slice in the middle of a sandwich and would soon get cut open by those claws or stomped over by the approaching footsteps.

The flash grenade came to her mind—probably in the very last moment before she'd become turkey stuffing. With a turn of her wrist, Claire reached for the grenade on her belt and rolled it in her palm until she had it in the right position to pop the pin and toss the object onto the floor. Lightning shot around her and the floor seemed to tremble under her back. The claw monster let go of her, leaping back and shrieking like a thing possessed. Claire's look jumped to the humanoid in the trench coat, who was punching wildly around him, his eyes covered with one arm as the other swung through the air. She couldn't waste any more time and, after rolling to her feet, Claire dashed through the corridor and towards the library, her hand pressed tightly onto her shoulder. She could almost hear the blood drip from her torn body and the strength vanish from her limbs, but nothing was going to stop her from running for her life. It somehow warmed her heart to know that the grenade she had found in Chris' old office had gotten her out of that situation, as it was like her brother had saved her once again.

The first aid spray would do the rest once she was in a safer place.

* * *

She wasn't sure when exactly she had eventually used the spray to clean and disinfect the wound she had gotten from that claw-tongue-monster. In the elevator that took her underground, perhaps? In Iron's stinky office or the orphanage, when she'd been looking for Sherry? Maybe she had waited until she'd survived the elevator crash after nearly being caught by Mr. Trench Coat. Had it not been for Sherry's mutated father, that thing would have killed her and the girl. The face in the coffee mug stared back at her, the sad eyes on it cradled by a dark shadow of exhaustion and doubt.

_Her father._  That thing with eyes and claws and teeth had been Sherry's father once. Claire wondered if she'd ever stop remembering the happenings of the previous night as if they had just been a bad horror film or a video game, as she herself still didn't quite believe all the things she had seen and done. The only thing that kept her from believing it had all been a bad dream was how fucking tired and torn she was. There was no spot left on her bruised body that didn't burn, sting or throb, which was, somehow, a relief itself—it meant she was still alive.

It was actually funny. The whole Raccoon City Police Department had been eradicated by the virus or its consequences—save Leon Kennedy and the missing S.T.A.R.S. members, maybe. So had the Umbrella employees working at NEST, presumably. But the nineteen-year-old college student and the little blonde girl in the school uniform had survived. If that wasn't something Claire could tell her grandchildren when she was old and wrinkled, what was?

Sleeping, Sherry was curled against her, the uniform long gone. The first thing they'd done after getting dropped in the closest town by that nice old couple was to get a shower in the motel and new clothes from the shady store around the corner. Claire had picked simple outfits for all three of them as best as she could, but it somehow wasn't enough to make them look like normal people instead of crazy tourists. Her red jacket was now tucked carefully under Sherry's little head as the girl slept the shock away. Poor kid, Claire thought to herself. Sherry had lost everything in Raccoon City.

Leon sat across the table, stabbing the steak on his plate with the fork until grease and blood had dripped and grown into a lake beneath it.

"Thank god I said I wanted it well done," he muttered as Claire grimaced in disgust.

"I don't know how you can eat anything." Her look dropped to Sherry's head, just so she didn't have to watch the food on the table. Her coffee was already cold from all the stirring she had done without drinking a sip.

"Technically, I'm not eating." Leon dropped the fork and took a sip of coffee instead. "But I should. I haven't eaten a bit since yesterday's breakfast." His look drove to Claire. "And I need all forces now that I have to watch out for you two."

The look she gave him was probably more frightening than those the zombies had given him the night before. Claire couldn't help it and curled her hand into a tight fist, accidentally pulling Sherry's hair on the way. The girl shook slightly, her tiny hand hitting for whatever was hurting her, but she didn't wake. Claire gasped as she became aware, soon putting her palm back onto the table.

"I can take care of myself," she hissed and Leon shrugged apologetically.

"Yeah, of course, you can." He smiled and tried once more to slice the food on his plate into digestible pieces. "So, what about your brother?"

Claire looked at him as she sucked her lower lip between her teeth and began to chew on it. Yeah, what about Chris? Shoulder shrugging, she carefully reached for the inner pocket of the jacket under Sherry's head, pulling out the note she had collected in the S.T.A.R.S. office and immediately dwelling in regret. She hadn't found Jill nor Barry—not even Wesker. Were they okay? Or had they become zombie food just like the other officers? She sighed.

"I don't know much," she explained as her stiff fingers unfolded his letter to S.T.A.R.S. "I found a letter that says he is on vacation in Europe. But that doesn't make sense. Why wouldn't he tell me?"

Leon, who had managed to slice a bit of steak off and was now chewing on it, gave her a sign asking for the letter and read through it.

"You know that this is a code, don't you?" the young cop gave the letter back to her and took a sip of his coffee to flush down the meat while Claire read hastily through the lines again.

"Oh god, of course it is!" She nearly smashed her head against the surface of the table, her loud yell waking Sherry. How could she have been so blind? The huge umbrella he had been doing whatever stuff with that girl under referred to the pharmaceutical company that had been causing chaos in Raccoon. In her defense, when she'd first read that note she hadn't known about Umbrella's implication in the disaster yet. "He's investigating Umbrella."

Leon nodded, giving Sherry a little smirk as the girl sat upright next to Claire and yawned.

"I'm hungry," she said and Leon chuckled. Claire, however, was too absorbed by the content of the note and its new meaning. He was telling them he'd stay for another six months. Six! And the note was from a month before. He must have found something interesting. But Europe was big, wasn't it?

"Where are the Umbrella headquarters?" Claire asked, receiving a shrug from the cop in front of her.

"In Paris."

Claire turned to her right, surprised by Sherry's sudden intervention.

"Did you say Paris?"

Sherry nodded, proud to help. "My mom and dad used to go there to the annual meeting every year before Christmas," she explained, stretching her thin arms to get rid of the deep-sitting sloppiness. "I usually stayed home, but last year they took me with them to France. I couldn't come to the meeting, of course. I stayed in the hotel room."

Claire patted Sherry's hair, not completely free of pity. The poor girl had unknowingly been living her short life surrounded by bioterror, and her parents had even had the guts to bring her along to their annual meetings. She grimaced slightly as she pictured how an Umbrella convention could possibly look like and if they gave out merchandising along with free samples of their latest-discovered viruses.

"You will never have to go through that again, Sherry, I promise."

* * *

Sherry had spent half of the day sleeping, which just prove how much the little girl had gone through, as Claire herself wasn't able to close her eyes without seeing pictures of Raccoon City flash up in front of them. Sometime after midnight, she'd had enough of tossing and turning and had gotten up, finding a place to sit and think next to the window. It was raining outside, and the droplets just reflected the red and blue lights of the motel's neon sign.

It reminded her of Chris.

She wasn't exactly sure how so, but maybe it was because absolutely everything seemed to remind her of Chris that night. He seemed to have followed Umbrella's trace to Europe, probably to their headquarters in France, but that was just a guess. Claire's head dropped against the window as the pressure of uncertainty seemed to knock her out slowly. She couldn't just fly to France, could she?

A hand on her shoulder made her jump a little, as the deep-sitting shock of Raccoon City still kept her on constant alert. She exhaled profoundly when she saw Leon.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," he whispered and took a seat in the other armchair next to the window. "Can't sleep, huh?"

She shook her head. "I wonder if I'll ever be able to." Shrugging, she forced a little laugh. Leon, however, kept serious, glaring at her from the shadows.

"Thinking about your brother?" It was obvious, wasn't it? She had come to Raccoon City because of him, after all. She shrugged a shoulder and turned back to the street.

"Yeah." Leon glared at her, nodding slightly.

"Will you go after him?" Her look turned back to him in surprise. That was obvious, too, wasn't it? Of course, running after him was everything she could think of, but her head swung from side to side.

"I wish I could," she spoke sincerely, opening up to the blond. "But Sherry kinda expects us to adopt her."

They laughed together. The little girl had genuinely mistaken them for boyfriend and girlfriend after they'd gotten off the train. As if they had acted, in any way, like a romantic couple around each other. To Claire, it just showed that the Birkins hadn't really been into showing affection in front of others if it wasn't towards their work. Who knew, maybe Sherry's father had gotten infected by kissing a leaking test tube.

She sighed. Chris and she were so different. They covered each other in hugs and kisses every time they met, and it had just gotten worse since she'd left for college.

"He's all my family, you know?" The thought of Chris somehow put a smile onto her lips. "Our parents died many years ago in an accident. At first, we lived with our grandparents but they passed away, too. So, Chris took care of me."

Her look dropped to Sherry, who had fallen asleep wrapped in Claire's red jacket. "He taught me everything I know about guns and knife fights. I wouldn't have survived last night without his training."

Her monologue was interrupted by Leon's hand on hers. She looked up to meet his smile in the neon glow, as warm and caring as it had been all this time. Leon was a sweetheart, she thought as she realized how heavily her heart was beating when the blond squeezed her hand. She returned the smile, staring into those wonderfully blue eyes of his. He was handsome, too, even in that baby-blue shirt that said  _Love Hawaii_. She had been so happy to see him all of the times they'd run into each other; at the gas station, at the east entrance and, finally in the train on their way out. The nightmare they'd both survived had probably built one of those awkward trauma-bonds between them that'll be hard to ever break. Or why was she shivering in expectation?

She shivered because there was no fence between them now.

Claire felt her tongue flick invitingly over her lower lip as Leon seemed to jerk a little closer. "He did a good job raising you."

There couldn't have been a lamer flirting line, but their interaction all through the night hadn't been very ingenious anyway. It was enough for two weirdoes in such a pitiful situation. Claire closed her eyes and softly pressed her lips onto Leon's.

He didn't complain or shy away. He stood still and just exhaled deeply against her cheek, angling his head hungrily to the right as Claire began to nibble on his lower lip. Releasing a soft gasp, his mouth opened, letting her dive into him and explore his taste. Leon cupped her face in both hands and pressed their bodies closer together, and Claire felt how well she seemed to fit into his grip. Yes, this was good because it  _felt_  good. Claire began to wonder if it was how a kiss was supposed to be; hungry and desperate, with the flavor of survival lingering on both their lips and the mere wish to forget stroking over their hands. They didn't even need more. The sound of their lips smacking together became a sweet lullaby to those who couldn't find rest and Claire knew she could have stayed there forever, letting Leon kiss away all the fear and anger and loneliness that sat so deeply and infected her with evil thoughts. However, Redfield-style, she somehow managed to ruin it all.

"Ouch!" Leon seemed to click his tongue as he pulled away in anger, pressing his eyes shut in pain as Claire ripped hers up widely. Fuck! She had grasped his shoulder too tightly, searching for support.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry!" Claire's voice hissed through the night. Leon snarled.

"It's okay," he whispered, forcing an encouraging smirk. He winked at her before he turned to check if his yelp had woken Sherry. When he looked back at Claire, she saw that something had changed in his face. Holding his shoulder, he let out a soft groan. They stared at each other in awkward silence and Claire slowly realized that they weren't going on. Leon's look drove away shyly as he laughed, like he had been about to do something incredibly stupid. He grabbed Claire's hand again gave her another of his warm looks.

"Leave us alone, Claire."

_We both felt that there was someone else, but we tried to ignore it for one brief moment. Who knows what would've happened if I hadn't been so clumsy?_

_Imagine what could've happened had we ended in bed together that night. It could have been the end of everything or the beginning of something new, maybe even both. I often thought that, maybe, we could have saved one another by simply dropping the armor and giving all of our trust and care to each other. Don't you think? I was ready. I would have never admitted it but I was so destroyed and confused and afraid that it could have actually worked._

_Perhaps we were too young and insecure to leave our very own comfort zone and open up to someone who wasn't the person on our mind. We will never know._

_I left the following day._


	12. Twin Souls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the boring chapter

 

"Chris Redfield...is he a relative of yours or something?"

Claire's heart seemed to explode in her chest when she heard her brother's name coming from the lips of a stranger. She wasn't going to let that show, though, and strolled across the room with the Redfield's natural defying demeanor.

"You mean my brother?"

"Ah, you're siblings!" The boy rolled his eyes at the revelation. His pose only indicated that he was, probably, trying to look older or tougher than he actually was. "Well it seems your brother is under surveillance by Umbrella."

"What?" Yes, her heart was definitely blasting, tearing flesh and bones on its way out. Claire stumbled towards the computer in the corner of the office. Her fingers began to fly angrily over the keyboard, checking the information Umbrella had gathered on Chris. He was in France, it seemed, as the source mentioned he'd been sighted near different public events the company had held in the north of the country. Luckily, the file didn't state that they'd caught him. Not yet. Considering which was the best way to proceed from her desperate situation, she could only come up with one solution.

"I got to contact Leon and tell him to let my brother know he's being monitored. It's a good thing I have access to an outside connection from here."

And once more, she was luckier than she actually deserved to be. She'd successfully infiltrated Umbrella's facility in Paris—after only two and a half months of investigation—and she'd caused some hopefully irreparable damage there, after being discovered. A feeling of pride filled her chest when she remembered the thrilling chase through the lab and how she'd almost gotten out. Almost.

Because she'd run out of luck —as she should have expected. No matter how brave and fearless she was; no matter how well Chris had trained her; she was still a nineteen-year-old college student and she had defied and beaten far too many Umbrella employees in her short life to keep running through their facilities unharmed. After causing a huge explosion with a skilled move, that Latin-American soldier had managed to point his barrel directly into her face, and the only thing she could draw in exchange was a couple of empty hands.

They had brought her to a shady old prison in the middle of… nowhere, probably. It was hot and moist and the tips of her hair were starting to curl into ugly little pigtails around her head. She was happy she'd put on that tiny vest with the  _Let Me Live_  design on the back to infiltrate the lab facility. It had been freezing in Paris, with temperatures worth of a Middle-European December, but now that she was sweating her skin off, it seemed to have been a proper choice. After some time in the dark cell they'd put her into, she'd eventually started to believe that it would become her tomb —until she'd heard the bombs. When she'd heard the bombs, she was absolutely, doubtlessly sure that she would die down there.

But she'd been lucky again. Rodrigo Juan Raval, the soldier that had eventually caught her in Paris and who had also brought her to the prison, had set her free again. The island had been taken over, he'd told her and she'd seen a generous amount of blood leak from the wound on his stomach with every word he spoke.

She hoped she could find him some meds.

"Well that file shows the latitude and longitude of this place. Ha! Why don't you send your brother the coordinates and ask him to come help?"

And now she was there in that creepy old military base, with cells, cages and barracks everywhere. Oh! And zombies, of course! Just like Raccoon City, this goddamn place was infested with undead, and Claire couldn't help but laugh at how bad things had turned out for her.

She had left Leon and Sherry behind to help her brother and was now caught herself —with that annoying kid, on top of it. What was his name again? Oh, right. Steve. Claire rolled her eyes at his words and how he spoke them. Why did she always run into little children while running for her life? Sherry had been a nice, helpful girl, at least, but this kid? He was simply annoying, despite being several years older than Sherry.

"Thanks," she said, after checking the data. "I'll do that."

Sure, she wasn't sending the coordinates to her brother, whom she hadn't known nor heard anything from since the beginning of summer, but to Leon. Yes, Leon would know how to help her and Chris. Claire couldn't hold back a smirk when the blond came to her mind. Leon had not only provided her with helpful information all through her trip, he had also kept her company more often than he could imagine, even from so far away. The emails they'd exchanged had, more than once, been the only source of strength she'd had available —especially the couple of times her search had somehow seemed to have led her to a dead end.

Neither of them had ever brought up the kiss again.

"Hey! I was just kidding! There's no way he could get here, even if he is your brother."

Claire blinked the confusion away as she turned to the raging kid behind her. She didn't know what had happened to him, but she saw him shake nervously as the look on his face darkened. She pitied him a little when she remembered where they were and how young he was; that he probably didn't have some previous experience with zombies nor an ex-Air Force brother who could have taught him how to shoot them. However, he had absolutely no right to speak that bad of Chris without knowing him.

"Yes, he can, I'm sure of it." She clicked on the send button and left her own and Chris' destiny in the hands of Leon S. Kennedy.

"No way! He won't come!" the kid behind her yelled. "You'll end up disappointed if you rely on others! Believe me! I know!"

And before Claire had the chance to ask him what kind of mental disorder he was suffering from, Steve dashed out of the room.

"What was that all about?"

* * *

Claire had a feeling of déjà vu whenever she opened one of the squeaking doors of the facility. The R.P.D. had been frightening, right? All the statues and hidden passages and that emotionless trench-coat guy stomping around all the time, but her mind was playing games with her, cradling her in well-known past experiences inside her rare comfort zone, just to keep her from going crazy. Because the military base Rockfort Island wasn't comparable to Raccoon City at all. Raccoon City had been a normal town before the outbreak; a place where people lived happily their peaceful life, unaware of Umbrella's dark experiments somewhere beneath the sewers. Rockfort, though, looked like it had been a creepy place full of torture and pain long before the T-Virus had leaked and infected everyone. Claire had stood in Chief Irons' personal torture chamber and it hadn't been even half as terrifying as the backyard of Rockfort's infirmary, where the head surgeon fulfilled his satisfaction to see people suffer. The key in shape of a glass-eye that had to be placed into the socket of a human anatomy model to open a secret staircase was just another one of a rapidly-growing list of disconcerting details about the island.

It seemed that Steve Burnside, the hot-headed kid she'd come across, was actually someone worth her pity, as he was just another innocent soul that had been dragged to that island because of the greed of others. His father, an ex-Umbrella-employee, had found it funny to steal information from the company and sell it to the highest bidder, with the subsequent punishment Umbrella gave to traitors. Steve's mother had been killed while he and his father had been taken to Rockfort, being held prisoners until the base had been attacked and everything had gone to shit. No wonder he had that disastrous vision of mankind, claiming that everyone who dared trust any people was damned to be deserted. And even so, it was as if he had wanted to prove her that  _he_  was a different kind. Once Claire had helped him get out of a secret chamber where he'd nearly gotten roasted, he'd turned simply crazy for saving her life. It was almost charming how the kid had emptied the Gold Lugers to kill one of those long-armed monsters that threatened to kill her. Being armed to the teeth herself, Claire didn't need any aid in her quest, but it was actually amusing to see how desperate Steve was to impress her. The reason was, probably, the fact that he hadn't seen a woman in a very long time —or ever— as Claire concluded every time she caught him staring at her ass.

The worst about the island, though, was Alfred. Alfred Ashford, current leader of the Ashford family and spoiled brat in his free time, had accused Claire of attacking his stupid island and spreading the T-Virus over it. As if she didn't have anything better to do. He had also tried to shoot her with a rifle twice his size. Luckily for Claire, he was as much of a bad shooter as he was a coward, and she had gotten away with the shock both of the times she had encountered him directly. She wasn't sure what kind of relationship he and his twin sister Alexia had, and why they were so irrationally obsessed with ants and ripping off the wings of dragonflies, but it somehow made her feel better about her own relationship with Chris. So what if she had some weird sexual feelings for her brother? Something told her that the Ashford twins had gone much farther than just masturbating next to the other's sleeping form. It still was a startling comparison she fought hard not to make again.

Anyway, the priority now was to get the fuck away from that nasty island as soon as possible and leave Alfred to his Alexia-fondling alone. With that thought on her mind, Claire opened the gate to the front yard of the palace, the so needed piano roll tightly secured in her side pack.

It was the wind that anticipated his presence.

The air had whistled cheekily around the frightening Ashford palace and around the whole island, ripping more than one scared scream from the lips of the damned with its howling. Now, however, it had simply stopped. Just like the first time they'd met at the R.P.D. party almost two years before, the surroundings seemed to surrender to his sheer existence.

"Greetings."

And even so, she hadn't seen it coming. Claire froze right where she stood, her fingertips just a fraction of an inch away from the doorknob she'd been about to turn, when the voice —THE VOICE— called out for her.

"You must be the lovely Claire Redfield."

Claire's heart rate shot up to a dangerous maximum when she heard him speak. Could it really be? The person behind her was dressed in black from head to toe, his outfit complemented by black leather gloves and dark shades.

"Who are you?" It sounded to her like the dumbest question ever asked, as everything about this person screamed  _Albert Wesker_.

"Let's just say that I'm a ghost coming back to haunt your dear brother," he said in a dark voice as he climbed up the stairs to the palace. His attitude was as arrogant as she remembered him, but he seemed much more talkative and cheerful than he used to be and Claire started to doubt if she really knew the man that was approaching.

"Wesker…?" Her intuition told her to draw her gun and put a bullet or two through the skull of the blond, but the tension kept her from reacting. She could feel her heart beat in her throat. As helpless as she'd ever been around him, Claire stood and watched as Wesker came threateningly close.

"It seems there's not much explaining to do, is there? I was the one who attacked this island. Who would have thought you'd be here?" He laughed darkly, just some steps away from her. "Now that the cat dragged in this surprise, your ever so caring brother... is sure to show up!"

What did  _that_ mean?  _He_ had attacked the island? So, Wesker was the culprit of the attack Alfred was blaming on  _her_? Sure, there was nothing unusual about a cop thwarting the villain's plans, but something told her that Wesker wasn't just another one of the good guys anymore —nor if he had ever been one of them. Her blood was pumped quickly through her veins and sweat stood on her forehead. Claire gasped a little, hoping that he wouldn't smell the fear all over her, while she analyzed what kind of beast she was just facing and if there was something about the Captain that could tell her he was really the man she had once opened up to.

He seemed to laugh at her thoughts, making it obvious how little of that man was left inside him. What was going on there? Wesker was Chris' Captain, whom he had always looked up to. Sure, he'd also been the focus of many complaints, but he was, overall, a good man.

Wasn't he?

"I don't know what went on between you two," Claire said cockily when the man stood only inches away from her. "But you have him all wrong! My brother is not the kind of person you think he is…"

Before she could foresee his next move, Wesker laughed again and grabbed her throat, lifting her off the ground.

"I despise Chris!" he howled into her face with a breath made of ice.

After surviving the initial shock, Claire managed to blink darkly at the blond, bathing him in her most hateful glance. He looked exactly the way she remembered him: high cheekbones, pointy nose, thin lips, hair combed back into perfectly straight strands along his head. His smell, however, was different —still manly elegant, still good— but different. The look on his face he inspected her with was different, too, having his usual sarcastic smirk been replaced with plain hatred.

"What are you gonna do to him?" She managed to gasp before the world started to turn. "Ah!"

A scream released itself from her throat as Wesker hit her so hard in the face that she was catapulted several feet away. Her shoulder creaked loudly when it hit the hard ground of the front yard, downstairs. Coughing she turned her head back to the palace door, spotting the blond walk down the stairs and directly towards her. Claire turned onto her back and let her feet try hard to crawl her aching body away from the man, but Wesker was faster. With a heavy stomp of his boot onto her shoulder, he made her collapse onto the ground and squeal in pain. Evil laughter filled the area. No, this was clearly not the man she had known in Raccoon City. Nothing was left of the creepy but righteous S.T.A.R.S. Captain who had saved her from the hands of a stranger; the one she had kissed so passionately in the shower of that motel; or the one she had once trusted so much she'd asked him to keep Chris safe.

Oh, irony!

"Oh, how your brother will weep to see you die."

Had she imagined she'd someday die at the hand of Wesker anyway, she would have tried to stab him when she'd had the chance to. His boot began to crunch her shoulder blade against the ground as he laughed darkly.

Suddenly, something else seemed to catch his attention, though, and he put his hand onto his left ear.

"What? What is it?"

Claire forced her eyes to open and saw Wesker turn away with an annoyed expression on his shaded face. The pressure on her body ceased and she curled herself into a ball, pressing her hand onto her damaged shoulder to ease the pain.

"Stay there! I'm coming!"

When the blond had turned his back to her completely, Claire saw her chance to escape, to grab her gun and shoot him or to do anything else to just prolong her miserable life. She rolled onto her elbow, causing the upper arm attached to it to hurt tremendously. She could have made it, hadn't Wesker decided to turn back to her. The sole of his boot was the last thing she saw before she got hit —rather kicked— in the jaw, landing face first in the dirt.

"It appears you're still of some use to me." Claire barely heard his words, as she was busy spitting up blood and checking if she'd lost any teeth. "I'm gonna let you live... a little longer!"

After turning on his heel, Wesker gave her one last look over his shoulder. Something flashed up in a bright red from behind his sunglasses and startled Claire to the core. Eyes wide open, she simply laid on the floor and watched as Wesker jumped out of the courtyard —over the ten-foot-high walls.

Her trembling fingers searched for the First Aid Spray in her back pouch while she kept staring at the wall where Wesker had leaped over. Nobody could jump that high, could they? She pulled up her short sleeve and emptied the whole spray on her shoulder, soon feeling the medicine's healing effect. Before rolling onto her feet, she took a moment to relax and think of what had happened.

Albert Wesker had just spared her life, it seemed, but it didn't feel like he'd been doing her any favor at all.

* * *

The thought of Wesker and how he had disappeared kept rumbling in her head all the way through the palace and up to the Ashford's dusty old residence on the top of the mountain. As if the island itself hadn't been unsettling enough, she was now awarded with the terrifying presence of that man. Sure, he hadn't used his unique chance to kill her, but that didn't mean that he would let her go if they ever met again. What had he said? Chris would weep to watch her die?

"You're definitely not gonna hurt him."

She would know how to avoid it. How often had she accepted to play and eventually beaten Wesker in his own game? She could do it again, no matter how high he could jump now or how bright his eyes glowed. Claire swallowed hard. That man was impossible to beat, wasn't he? Fast, agile and equipped with the brilliancy of his evil mind, he had surely already traced tons of plans to kill her. And the tiny spark of hope Chris would come and get her away from the prison turned into fear.

"Don't come, Chris," she whispered to herself as she placed the king ant object onto the cover of the music box in what seemed to be Alfred's private chamber, causing it to pop open. She wasn't sure what disturbed mind had come up with all those closure mechanisms that sealed doors and activated traps, but they must have spent years designing and crafting the complete palace. When Claire placed the golden music plate into the open box and turned it on, the bed in the corner began to rattle as the canopy descended, a ladder to the upper floor coming to show.

"Fuck…"

This was creepy as shit.

The music playing in the box wasn't helping either.

She shivered, realizing that the ladder was the only path she could take.

Maybe it was a way out.

The metal ladder squeaked as she climbed up to the next floor, being the melody from the music box her only faithful companion. Her eyes jumped from her feet to the hole in the ceiling and back down, constantly fearing that something might be lurking in a random corner, waiting to attack. Nothing jumped out of the shadows, though, and the scenery that unfolded in front of her eyes on the upper floor was as heart-warming as it was perturbing.

It was a children's playroom. The walls wore paintings of fairytale castles and unicorns and old furniture and toys lay around in the inexistent corners of the round space. In the middle of the room—where the ladder Claire was climbing up met the upper floor—stood a carousel. Obviously made for two, it showed a couple of precious wooden horse figures that pulled small carriages where children could sit in; one on each side. The manes had been carved precisely into the horses' neck, but the paint was already flaking off, revealing how old that construction really was.

"Holy shit!" The swear words just dribbled out of her mouth with every step she took. Raccoon City had been scary, but this was the eeriest place she'd ever come across and it somehow infected her lovely childhood memories of the merry-go-rounds Mom had taken her to. That picture was now ruined forever. Claire walked slowly over the roundabout towards the exit, staring right onto the immense wall painting of an ant—or that was what it looked like, at least. She cursed herself for leaving Chris' precious S.T.A.R.S. Zippo lighter with Rodrigo when she'd brought him the hemostatic. She could use it herself now, as the only light in the room seemed to come from another upper level which looked suspiciously interesting.

Determined to find a way up there, Claire began to circle the carousel, and soon came across a small, shining object held in silver, lying on a chair next to a cello and a grandfather clock. I was a silver dragonfly, with small jewels placed around the head and four polished wings. Wait, what had the kids on the footage been doing to the dragonfly? Surprised by how easily the tiny metal wings of the object just came off, Claire inhaled deeply. This was insane. Was the next step to feed the dragonfly to the ants? Her eyes shot back to the ant painting on the wall and, before she knew what she was doing exactly, she had already pushed the wingless insect object into the tiny slot the ant picture had on its mouth.

Absolutely crazy!

Claire drew her gun instinctively when something squeaked behind her and she watched how the carousel began to move. The horse and carriage figures hopped up and down to the rhythm of the music the carousel played like yet another music box and Claire saw how not only the seats moved. As the roundabout turned, the access to the upper gallery was completed when two pieces of the ladder met. Without putting the gun away, Claire approached the ladder and listened. Nothing seemed to grunt from the gallery. Nothing seemed to move. She pushed her gun back into the holster and began to climb up the ladder, trying to avoid making any sound. Little by little she approached the gallery and peeked into the space that awaited her.

Once made sure it was clear, she swung her legs onto the surface and began to inspect the area. She stood in a study or an office, with shelves and shelves full of books. A large desk was placed against the wall and Claire decided to have a closer look at what might have been studied up there. What she found was a newspaper clip talking about a ten-year-old girl genius and a letter.

"Confession letter," she read and checked the signature at the end of the text. "Alfred Ashford."

_Alexia, my sister, is a genius and possesses unmatched beauty. She is everything to me. I would overcome any obstacle and be willing to risk my life for her. For Alexia, I must revive the glorious Ashford Family which fell during the era of my father, Alexander._

_Together, we will restore our family name. Once that has been achieved, I'll build a palace where only nobles may gather. I cannot allow the unwashed to see my dear Alexia, to whom my life is devoted to. She reigns the world as queen, with I as her servant._

_That is my dream, and how sweet it will be. Those accomplishments will be proof of my love toward Alexia.  
It is the purpose of my existence._

_All other people are meaningless, and they shall prostrate themselves before Alexia and I._

_Devoted to my beloved Alexia,  
Alfred Ashford_

Her heart seemed to shrink as she read the lines. Alfred was such a sadistic monster that he was fresh air even to Umbrella's low standards, but behind all his effort to make himself unloved among humanity, he wasn't so different from herself. Alfred was, apparently, having similar feelings for Alexia as she was having for Chris. While she had taken care of the household for her brother, Alfred had built Alexia a huge residence. While she had let Albert Wesker take advantage of her, Alfred had promised to keep his sister safe and make her a queen.

And both of them would die for their sibling.

It was the same story told twice, and it made her realize just how damaged she really was, comparing herself to that disgraceful bastard. Maybe this all had happened because of her sick wish to be close to Chris. Raccoon City, all the deaths, Wesker turned evil… Maybe it was all part of her punishment. Claire didn't notice that she was crying until her tears had rolled down her face and dropped onto the letter.

There was no point in staying where she was. Under the stack of papers on the desk she found the last hexagonal medallion she needed to activate the platform in the boarding area. It was a stone object with a fighter jet carved into it and, naturally, it reminded her of Chris.

* * *

The carousel had moved the hole in the floor as well, giving access to the ladder on the other side this time. And so, Claire descended into Alexia's chamber, which was adjoining Alfred's, and it was as silent as her brother's had been before.

That's why she nearly died of shock when she heard the rifle being reloaded right behind her.

"Claire Redfield, hold it right there." Claire turned to the sweet voice and found a beautiful woman in long, blond hair and an elegant violet dress aiming the barrel at her. It was the same woman she had seen on the big painting in the portrait room. Alexia it had to be. The blonde came closer. "We meet each other at last, a pity I must say good-bye so soon. I am Alexia Ashford and for the pride of the Ashford family, I will kill you!"

Alfred could obviously blame his terrible shooting skills on genetics, as Alexia, too, failed to hit her target from a distance so short she could have placed the barrel right onto Claire's chest. Admittedly, she probably didn't know that the name Redfield came with an innate and endless will to survive and a proper amount of good luck. The redhead leaped to her left to dodge the shot, her shoulder hitting against one of the large wardrobes. It was the same shoulder Wesker had stepped on before and it creaked as it met the furniture, but at least, she hadn't gotten shot so far.

Alexia reloaded the rifle and took another step forward.

"Wait!" Claire curled on the ground, her right hand searching intuitively for the handgun to defend herself. She could make it, if she was just fast enough…

Before either of the women could shoot, the door next to them was kicked open from the outside and Steve appeared in the room.

"What's going on?"

Alexia turned her rifle to the young man in response and another shot blasted through the chamber. Steve stumbled backwards onto the ground, lifting the two submachine guns he was carrying and firing at the blonde without further hesitation. Claire, shocked, turned to him in concern.

"Steve!"

The young man gave her a sign to tell her he was alright, before the both of them turned back to Alexia, just catching sight of the piece of stone wall that just turned back into place. Was it really possible?

"A secret door!" Claire exclaimed as Steve rolled onto his feet.

"After her!"

The stone wall barely turned as Claire and Steve pushed it. How had Alexia moved that thing so quickly? As Steve kept holding the door open, Claire swiftly moved into the adjacent room, her gun ready to shoot whoever was waiting for them there. It was empty, though. Some blood stains remaining the only proof that Alexia had been in there. But where was the woman?

The door turned shut and Steve dropped to his knees to have a look under the bed. Claire, in the meantime, stared down at a long, violet piece of cloth on the bed. It was too similar to the dress Alexia had been wearing not to believe it could have been a piece of her private wardrobe. She sighed at the discovery, unable to tell what exactly it meant, until she turned around and found the blonde mane that had been carelessly thrown onto the music box.

"This must be..." she whispered as her fingers caressed over the golden wig. The next second, something swooshed down on her from above. She dodged the attack of Alfred, who had seemingly jumped off the canopy of his bed and was now fighting Steve. The boy had jumped between the blond and Claire, meaning to protect latter from the attacks of the mad Ashford heir. Once he managed to push Alfred back and seeing the blond stumble backwards onto the floor, Steve pointed his guns at him. Claire felt almost sorry for their shivering opponent as he watched Steve in fear. Climbing back onto his feet, he eventually caught sight of himself in the reflection of the window.

"What?! No!"

Alfred's hysterical screams filled the room as he sprinted towards the door, covering his face as if he tried to hide it from the outside world. Once he left the room, Steve put his guns down.

"Wait a second, what just happened?"

Claire's look dropped to the wig on the music box. It seemed she didn't have that much in common with Alfred as she'd feared to believe. She turned her attention back to Steve.

"So there never was an Alexia after all!"

The boy grunted with a roll of his eyes.

"You mean, he thinks he's two people?" Head-shaking Steve blew out a disbelieving breath. "Okay that's it, let's get out of here!"

* * *

_I think we all know the rest of the story… more or less. Steve and I escaped Rockfort on a plane, right before the island was destroyed. I even had time to fight and beat a Tyrant… twice, actually. However, the plane went on autopilot and we couldn't get the manual controls to work again, so we were brought to the Umbrella base in Antarctica, a transport terminal. Of course, Alfred was there, as the facility had been under the Ashfords' control for many years._

_They… they kept their father captive there, somewhere in the basement. Infected and turned into a blind, poisonous monstrosity. Nosferatu, the employees called him. Fighting him is the last thing I really remember, as shortly afterwards, Steve and I got attacked again and I lost consciousness. We were already on our way away from that facility._

_I woke up in the arms of my brother._


	13. Albert

"One...Two...Three."

It was surprising how quickly tears dried when you ran for your life, Claire realized when Chris gave the order to turn the keys and release the linear launcher to defeat the monster once called Alexia Ashford. Yes, there really  _ was  _ an Alexia, as she’d been forced to learn just seconds after awaking in Chris’ arms, when the blonde beauty had appeared on top of the stairs and had attacked the  _ genetically inferior siblings _ , as she had dared call them. Pretty bold thing to say for someone who had just been vomited out by one of those tentacles that grew all across the mansion. She and Chris were going to show that bitch that there was nothing inferior about a Redfield!

_ Initiating energy injection. Warning! The safety bar will not be released until charging is complete. _

Alexia was currently nothing more than a slimy clump, but the bubbly goose-bumps that spread over her body seemed to leave her skin covered in a hard carapace impossible to destroy. It took her just a second to get up again and an icy look from deadly eyes stole Claire’s breath as she turned to the siblings. Chris pushed his sister away.

“I'll keep her busy, just go for the emergency elevator,” he commanded, much to the displeasure of Claire. 

“Chris, but…”

Chris threw a hard glance at her; impossible to be more serious or demanding.

“I can take care of this, just go!”

She swallowed at his words. Wasn’t  _ Just go _ what Leon had told her to send her after Chris, when he’d known she wasn’t of much use to him and Sherry with her big brother constantly on her mind? Was that what she was to Chris, too; nothing but a burden he needed to rescue from a prison on the other side of the planet? He had come, interrupting his research on Umbrella to free her from Rockfort Island, and he had even followed her restlessly to Antarctica. And what had she done in the meantime? Saving Steve had become her one goal during her adventure on the island and in the Antarctica base besides her own escape, as it had given her the feeling that there was an actual reason for her pitiful existence. She had believed to have found a kid that needed her help and that Steve could have never survived without her intervention. But she hadn’t been able to save him from Alexia’s dreadful plan and the kid had gotten infected with the same virus the blonde had tested on her own father, so, in the end, it had been Steve who had saved  _ Claire _ from the huge tentacle that was choking her. He had died in her arms, confessing he had fallen in love with the redhead with his very last breath, and he hadn’t lived to hear her answer.

It was probably the best; as her answer would have been a handful of silence anyway. However, Claire had cried his death as Steve Burnside had become the living—no, the dead—proof of her failure.

Claire shook her head eagerly. What had she promised to herself that night in the back alley, when she had gotten rescued by Albert Wesker out of all people in the world? That she would never be weak again; that she would fight and fall and stand up again until she would, someday, inevitably, die from stubbornness.

She wasn’t dead yet, was she? 

Her head turned to face her brother in the other corner of that platform. Of course he had come to get her; they only had each other, and Chris had just come out of the very same reason that had brought herself to take a plane to Europe. He loved her. He loved her and it would be a pity if she refused to honor him by getting herself killed now. 

"You have to make it,” she begged more than she commanded as her body language switched from defensive to defeated. “Don't die on me!"

Chris licked his lips as he shouted, “I won’t. I promise!” And it was enough for Claire to follow his orders loyally.

She dashed towards the stairs, trying to dodge the attacks Alexia was throwing at her rather unsuccessfully. The stream of fire rushed over the ground so very close that it burnt the fine hair on her forearm and it blocked her way out. Claire swallowed, facing the creature that was stepping towards her in slow but steady moves. Alexia, like everybody else seemed to believe that  _ she _ was the weaker Redfield; the girl one shall kill first before focusing on the bigger brother. How could she have known that Claire was far from being weak and helpless? She hadn’t faced the corrupt authority in shape of Brian Irons, the monstrosity William Birkin had turned into, and the frightening reflection of herself in Albert Wesker’s sunglasses in vain, and there was no way she would ever let  _ Miss Ant-Queen _ put one single finger on herself nor Chris. Without showing any sign of hesitation, Claire drew her M93R Beretta, willing to fire at the approaching B.O.W. 

“Claire!” she heard Chris’ call from the other side of the platform, followed by the sound of his own gun opening fire before her. Alexia, caught between the firestorm of two semi-automatic handguns, soon began to step back and dropped to her knees and once she was weakened, Chris came closer, quickly grabbing the shotgun and aiming for her quivering body.

“Now go!”

The B.O.W.’s abdomen began to distend rapidly and Claire knew that Chris’ fight was far from being over, but she wanted to believe in her brother, and decided to clean the way to the exit. With an aching pressure in her chest, she walked backwards down the stairs, watching wings and feelers break free from the disgusting cocoon Alexia was becoming. The emetic smell that emerged from the B.O.W. seemed to encourage her to leave Chris alone on the battlefield.

The emergency elevator was close, as Claire remembered having seen it on her way through the medieval torture chamber where Steve had lost his life. She drew her handgun, ready to shoot any monster that might block her way out, but didn’t find anything but empty halls; blood-stained, but safe. The elevator was already waiting for her, but Claire couldn’t get rid of the feeling that there was still something she needed to take care of first. Eyes bravely swept back to the door at the end of the corridor, to the room where Steve’s body lay in a pool of blood and failed attempts. There was no point in ignoring her defeat and ask for absolution, Claire thought and slid down the zipper of her vest as she stepped towards the shut door. Steve deserved better than to be left behind in the freezing Antarctic base and, as she couldn’t give him a proper funeral, at least, she wanted to cover his dead, naked body.

He deserved that tiny piece of respect.

The door ripped open even before she could put her palm onto the knob. Before she even knew from what she was running, she had already taken a step back.

“You…” she stuttered at the sight of the so well-known sunglasses, stumbling back until her back met the bars of the prison cell behind her. 

“Miss Redfield.” Wesker sounded as surprised as herself when he spotted her, his reptilian eyes glimpsing over the glass with interest. “What a pleasant surprise.”

Had her heart ever hammered that loudly? She couldn’t even hear the gunshots, explosions and the deafening siren of the self-destruction anymore, as everything seemed to be drowned by Albert Wesker’s presence and voice—just as it always used to be. Why the fuck hadn’t she just taken the elevator like Chris had told her? Human or not, she had faced that man often enough to  _ know _ that she was helpless against him, damned to die if she even tried to fight him, so before Wesker could take another step forward, Claire sprinted back into the hall and towards the elevator. It wasn’t one of her brightest ideas, as the exit would be a dead end, especially without Chris following her, but that didn’t really matter anyway as she never reached the door to the elevator. Wesker caught her within a second and grabbed her arms in a tight grip behind her back, turning the skin around her forearms so hard she feared it would tear. As his torturous grasp released a deep scream from her lips and Claire's head whipped back, he took his chance to grab hold of her ponytail, too. Had she already forgotten that she wasn’t running from a normal human being?

"I already believed my time here would end without a proper farewell," he whispered into her ear from behind, "but it seems like I will still have the chance to encounter your brother again."

All the pain became secondary and unimportant, when she knew Chris threatened by the evil beneath those shades, and Claire began to kick backwards, hoping to catch a shin or foot in her chaotic attack. Wesker, though, unimpressed and unharmed by the redhead's flying feet, only granted her a sample of his usual demeanor, laughing at her futile attempts.

"You won't hurt him," she shouted. "I will stop you first."

The grip around her wrists tightened as his stupid laughter filled the corridor again.

"I had almost forgotten your impetuous character, Miss Redfield," he huffed into her ear and she grimaced in surprise.

"Oh, so you  _ do _ remember me?" Claire forced a challenging smirk to stand the pressure. "I had nearly believed you had gone crazy for good this time.”

Wesker chuckled.

“Because I didn’t greet you with a kiss on the mouth?” He still didn’t miss a chance to discourage her and the insulting load of his voice irritated her to the bone. Some things would never change, it seemed. “There was nothing unusual about my first greeting to you, Miss Redfield. May I remind you that it was  _ you _ who asked about  _ my _ identity? 

Claire hissed as she tried to turn in his grip, but she was held tightly in place by his strong hands. 

“Maybe I was just playing your own game.”

The blond laughed into her ear, icy breath tickling over her neck and causing the fine hairs on her nape to stand up like lightning rods, and this was when Claire noticed how cold he was. Even through the thick gloves he wore, she could feel the freezing sensation of his skin on hers, and it underlined his tight grasps on her so uncomfortably that it made her shiver. The sound of screams and gunfire rolled down the stairs and cradled her in the discomfort of her own concern for Chris.

“Don’t worry,” Wesker huffed into her ear. “I’m sure he will make it back to you, Claire.” The contact of his gloved fingers ran along her hipbone and her body froze under the touch. “Who would leave behind such a beautiful sister like you?”

Short, shallow breaths were all she could fill her lungs with as her heart was pumping so wildly that it made her dizzy.

“It will be my chance to get my revenge…”

She laughed in desperation at his attempt to break her. There was no more time for her to waste, as Chris would soon be coming after her and find her caught by the enemy. She needed to get rid of the blonde before Chris showed up, and avoid any unnecessary risk.

“Do you think Chris will sit and watch passively as you harm his sister?” Her counterattack should have sounded darker and more challenging, but those words didn’t have the same effect when your voice trembled like raspberry jelly. Wesker just kept laughing.

“No, of course not. But maybe, if he was confronted with a dark revelation...” He ran his freezing fingers along her jawline and Claire was close to crumbling. “Tell me, does he know about your secret already?”

Her secret? Did he really expect Chris to believe any of his words after coming clean about his intentions?

“Keep trying to fool me. That won’t work,” she exhaled. “Even if you tell him, I will deny everything until I die.”

Her laughter was cut by Wesker’s strong hand on her throat and her breath began to gurgle out with difficulty.

“As you wish, Miss Redfield.”

Surprisingly, he released her throat as quickly as he had begun to strangle her, letting air flood back into her lungs freely. Claire coughed, she trembled in his grip, but she would never ever stop rebelling.

“Hah! Sure, go ahead!” she yelled as soon as she had found her voice again. “Kill me! Rape me before if you feel like it. Chris will destroy you for every time you hurt me and he will gloriously dance on your fucking grave.”

Those words seemed to surprise him for real this time, as he stopped chuckling and Claire could even perceive the snapping sound of grinding teeth close to her ear. The silence became more uncomfortable than the wring on her wrists and Claire feared his next move in an irrational way. Wesker cleared his throat before he began to speak again.

“It would certainly be interesting to see his face while I did that, Miss Redfield, but I’m rather disappointed that you’re thinking so low of me,” he said, his voice showing that there was absolutely nothing he was disappointed about.  “What makes you think I would turn to such cheap, unworthy methods like rape?”

She couldn’t believe the words she’d just heard. Was that a fucking joke? Claire laughed out loudly, her nerves tickling under her skin until they made it itch. 

“Don’t make me laugh!” She howled, her body eventually recovering the strength it needed to keep resisting his pushes. “There is no difference between violently raping someone and blackmailing them into sleeping with you.”

Another piece of silence followed her last words, as though he was thinking what to tell her next. Just a dramatic pause to prolong her suffering, it was; as he knew pretty well what to tell her. He demonstrated it shortly afterwards.

“It’s funny that you still haven’t understood, Claire. I was never...” A short pause preceded his next word like a drum-roll. “...blackmailing you.”

That statement made her shudder for no apparent reason.  What else would he have been doing to her, the young, inexperienced and afraid teenager he had caught one night of weakness in some gardens?

“What do you mean?” she huffed in offense. “What else would have gotten me to sleep with someone like  _ you _ ?”

She tried to sound as insulting as possible, not considering that it was not only childish, but also completely useless. It was impossible to insult someone who had no feelings and knew no scruple. Wesker, of course, ignored her words with crude class and turned her wrist a bit further down. Claire bowed back in pain.

“You were so eager….” he whispered into her ear as he used his free hand to softly caress over her neck and her teeth chattered in disgust. “Willing to do anything to protect your brother. What will he do, I wonder, when he finds out that you offered yourself so openly.”

Claire inhaled deeply through wide nostrils as she kept herself from screaming.

“Don’t try to fool me,” she hissed, her voice barely audible. “You threatened to tell him everything…”

“What did I threaten you with, Miss Redfield?” Wesker’s voice was dark and husky when he interrupted her. “Did I tell you to strip in my office? Did I ever say I would tell your brother if you didn’t sleep with me? Do you really believe there was any  _ need _ for me to blackmail you?”

Claire gasped as the words sank in. He had told her to undress, because she would have never slept with him hadn’t he commanded so. She was the victim here. He had forced her to become his slave.

Hadn’t he?

“You said… you would take actions because...“ Her voice came out flooded by the first tears when the memory of the blonde’s threat didn’t want to come back to her. Wesker brushed her cheek with his index finger, and wiped away the droplet of stinging cold from her tortured skin.

“I said I couldn’t permit that one of my men lived in an incestuous relationship with his sister but, to be honest, Miss Redfield, I had no proof except for your pitiful performance in those gardens.”

She swallowed hard. What was he telling her exactly?

“You told me…” 

However, she couldn’t remember. Certainly, more than a year had passed, but she couldn’t recall one single time he had actually told her to fuck him.

“I think I just said you were talking too much.” He laughed darkly as more tears rolled down her cheeks in an attempt to punish her with embarrassment. 

Wesker grabbed her ponytail and pulled her head closer to his, speaking softly into her ear, “It was so easy, Claire. So easy and so fascinating. I believe you know by now that I would have never discarded Chris from my team after selecting him so meticulously. But seeing how eager you were to protect him… It was too exciting not to see how far you could be pushed. And don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy it, Claire. Are you seriously going to blame me for teaching you all you needed to know in case Chris ever dared touch you?”

She was so numb and weak, she could be happy Wesker was holding her on her feet, as she would have collapsed without him. So, she had offered herself to that man for nothing? She had lied to her brother, sacrificed all her first times and betrayed her own principles because  _ she _ had pushed  _ him _ ? It simply couldn’t be.

Hadn’t she been consciously living a nightmare before; she would have believed she was dreaming. The explosions in the distance became louder and a wave of fire and dust emerged from the stairs she had climbed down before. Her wet eyes widened as she spotted Chris jump into the corridor.

“Chris!” she yelled as soon as she could pronounce a word, and her brother’s presence seemed to restore the lost force in her limbs. Claire began to rip and twist, causing Wesker to turn her to the closest corridor with an unkind yank on her ponytail.

“Move!”

He shoved her around the corner followed by Chris’ muffled call for her. The self-destruction was already taking care of the facility’s remains and a horde of infected ran along the corridor in search for an exit and more flesh to feast on. However, they seemed to avoid Wesker’s figure as though they knew he was rotten on the inside and that the consuming of the putrid meat would make them even sicker than they already were. His strong hands guided her along the passage and towards a huge metal door, from where cold air blew thoroughly into the fire that surrounded them. Claire winced as hot smoke filled her lungs and she barely had time to think where the blond was taking her before he burst through the door with her. They were outside, surrounded by old barrels and other trash, and the cold wind hit her so hard she believed it would freeze her right on the spot.

“Hold still, Miss Redfield!” Even Wesker’s cold breath was still flooding into the air in a visible haze. “Save your energy for later, when your dear brother can watch you suffer.”

And so, they stood and waited for Chris to show up.

Claire observed the whiteness of their surroundings through the tears the hurtful jerks on her hair had sent into her eyes, and considered how beautiful the stains of blood would look in the snow. Whether it would be Wesker’s blood or her own, was yet to be seen, though. Anyway, as long as it wasn’t Chris’, she would die happily, and a part of her wished her brother would reconsider and leave without her.

What a stupid thought. Chris Redfield hadn’t travelled thousands of miles to Antarctica only to leave her there, and the thought broke her heart even more. Now that the disgusting truth had been revealed, all her attempted positive thoughts had vanished and she felt like the dumb little girl she had always been.

How useless she had been to the world, to herself and Chris, to Steve, to Leon and Sherry. Her look drove to her captor, who was smiling with expectation, as if he had been waiting for this chance forever. It looked like he was the only one to whom she hadn’t been completely worthless, after all.  _ Fascinating _ , that’s what he’d called her. Fascinating and easy and eager, she had been a godsend to his plans, and having once been a willing toy, now she could spice up his revenge against Chris.

“What did Chris do to you?” she asked in a low voice and huffed. “Did he run away with Jill?” 

The situation didn’t incite to tease, but Claire couldn’t bite her tongue. With her dignity long gone, and about to be brutally assassinated in front of her brother’s eyes, there was nothing she could do now to keep her self-composure, and the pressure inside of her needed an emergency valve to rush out. Wesker, however, just hummed.

“Your brother ran away alone, it seems,” he said in a voice full of false judgement and Claire listened with attention. 

Of course, she had known that Chris had travelled to Europe without Jill or Barry. That’s what his letter in the S.T.A.R.S. office implied, at least. However, she didn’t know what had happened to them afterwards, if they were okay, if they could have needed her help when Raccoon went to shit. The blond chuckled.

“How irresponsible of him,” he continued. “After losing so many of his comrades in the Spencer Mansion, he just abandoned poor Jill to her fate. Sources say she was in Raccoon City when Umbrella sent their special unit to take care of the remaining S.T.A.R.S. members.”

The blood rushed into her cheeks and made the air around her collide even harder against her skin. So, Jill had been in Raccoon City, too? What did that mean? Did she get out? How was she? Chris hadn’t mentioned anything about her, but they hadn’t had much time to catch up yet either. If her brother was carrying around the grief for his dead ex-girlfriend, he was playing it down remarkably well. 

It took her awhile to force her mind to the rest of the given information. Spencer Mansion? Lost comrades? For the very first time, Claire stopped wondering how to reunite with her brother and began to meditate on all the reasons that pushed him to go that far and what he hoped to find wherever his journey took him. Nearly choking on how dumb and selfish she had been all the way since she’d entered Racoon City for the first time, she felt the tears flow again. Wesker’s cruel grip around her ponytail, on which he was pulling her into the air, was certainly contributing. 

The door opened and Chris plunged out, finding his sister in the armlock of the devil himself. Claire gasped, attempting not to let her toes lose contact to the ground below.

“Chris,” she yelped under the twinge the grasp caused her. Chris stood several feet away from them, panting in exhaustion. He must have sprinted after them.

“Well done Chris,” Wesker’s threatening voice rang through the area. “It turns out that Alexia’s work wasn’t much of anything. So now the only thing left is revenge!”

Chris locked eyes with Claire, and the tranquility in his look inspired new hope, assuring her that, no matter how desperate the situation seemed, he was now with her and that she wasn’t lost anymore. She licked her lips and closed her eyes as her brother treaded forward.

“Let her go, Wesker!” He shouted resolutely. “You don’t want her!”

Something she would have never believed to be possible happened afterwards. After pulling on her ponytail until her back bumped into him, Wesker huffed into her ear.

“Consider this my goodbye gift to you, Miss Redfield. You might still be of use, after all,” he whispered disgustingly, and before she could understand, he sat her onto her feet again. “Fine!” the blond yelled and nudged her forward, so hard she staggered wildly towards her brother and landed on the ground on all fours. Chris was by her side just a second later.

“Claire!”

With a sigh of relief and intrigue leaving her lips, she climbed back onto her feet, Chris closely next to her. In his typical protective older-brother-demeanor, he stood between her and his former Captain, shielding his sister from any further attack the evil man could attempt.

“Today’s a good day!” Wesker spoke, voice filled with his very own kind of excitement. “I came for Alexia, but killing  _ you _ is even better.”

Claire stopped shivering from cold and shivered from fear instead. After all she had gone through so bravely, the moment she saw Chris and Wesker face-to-face, she was downright numbed with terror. Chris, however, her courageous and strong-willed brother, was nothing but defiant in front of his old supervisor.

“I’m sorry to disappoint you,” he said shrugging his shoulders. “But Alexia is gone.”

“That’s no longer a concern to me,” Wesker said and turned to Claire. “I have Steve to work with.”

“What?” she whispered incredulously.

“Steve,” she heard her brother confirm.

“In his body there’s still a living T-Alexia virus,” he explained. “Steve should be a good specimen. Maybe he’ll come back alive just as I did, and be able to see your sister again.”

It was one of those moments that Hollywood would stuff with dramatic action music to pump up the emotion, but being one of the implicated, Claire knew that it wasn’t necessary. The scene was goddamn dramatic and thrilling enough, but she would have appreciated some music anyway, as it would have covered the sound she made when her sore heart exploded in her chest. That monster had taken Steve and was now making fun of the poor kid’s feelings.

“You freak!” Chris shouted.

“Don’t you touch him!” Claire propelled herself forward without further meditation, seeking throat, heart or eye sockets of that piece of human trash, but Chris’ stretched arm took grasp of her. He held her back without gentleness and Wesker pushed his sunglasses in place.

“I’m sorry dear heart, but my men have already taken him.”

Her first impulse was to run to Wesker and stab him in the chest; the second one, to run to see if he was telling the truth about his men taking Steve’s body. Was there something like  _ his men _ anyway, or had he already gotten rid of them just like he had gotten rid of the people on Rockfort Island and those in the base in Antarctica? As Claire considered what to believe, Chris pushed her back.

“You get out of here, Claire,” he said resolutely, and Claire knew that this wasn’t a mere petition anymore. It was an order. As a Redfield, though, she couldn’t tell the difference anyway. 

“But what about…?” she mouthed, voice filled with fear. There was no way she would ever leave her brother alone again, knowing how likely he was to disappear from her life and run after the evil ones to stop them. Her anguished eyes jumped to Wesker, who wasn’t even pretending to be in a fateful situation. Hadn’t he been looking forward to this moment? The taste of his power had been convincing enough for her to start believing that not even the rock of her brother could withstand the man’s strength. Was Chris asking her to leave so she wouldn’t have to witness his death? Tears surfaced and Claire shook her head eagerly. “Chris, I…”

Her brother, however, kept focused on his former Captain, his look soaked with nothing but determination.

“As a surviving member of S.T.A.R.S., I have to finish this,” he said calmly, his gaze steadily holding Wesker’s, and Claire saw something that told her much more than any note or diary she could have possibly found in Raccoon City. This was not  _ her  _ fight; it was Chris’, and the vengeance both men were after went far beyond any entanglement or secret regarding the little sister. 

“Okay, but remember your promise,” she pleaded, turning away quickly to hide the tears of panic from Chris. Driven by the fear she would simply stop existing if she didn’t keep her aching body in motion, Claire dashed back through the corridors, towards the elevator and away from Albert Wesker.

 


	14. Truth and regret

 

The jet's cockpit promised her safety from fire, bombs, and zombies the moment she sank into the backseat, but it was by far not enough to keep her from shaking. She had worn the armour of nerves and constant alert ever since she had walked into Raccoon City, knowing that she wouldn't find rest until she'd find Chris, and she had naively believed that reuniting with her brother would make everything fine again. Of course, nothing was ever meant to be just  _easy_ for Claire Redfield, and the embarrassing past she had believed forgotten was now coming back to haunt her down into her deepest of daydreams.

A stupid girl like her didn't deserve any better.

It seemed like Albert Wesker had never asked her to do anything, had never forcefully made her trade her dignity, sanity and other  _-ities_ for his silence. The threats and blackmails had all been just in her head, and she had made herself a willing toy to the Captain who had been lucky enough to find her in a state of weakness. Suddenly revealed that all her sacrifices hadn't been sacrifices but a mere misstep, Claire felt so ashamed of herself that she began to hit her head against the back of the front seat of the cockpit.

"You idiot," she hissed at herself as the tears started to flow freely. "You foolish little girl."

After everything she had observed and survived, she very well deserved to act like the dumb teenager she had always been, and so the backseat of that jet became the silent witness to her sorrow and her only shoulder to cry on.

She cried until she lost track of time, if she still kept such a thing in that cold-cored hell made of blood stains on white ground. She cried and wept until the self-destruct system announced that it was being pretty serious about blowing them up in a matter of sixty seconds.

How long would it take someone to beat their Captain?

"Where are you, Chris?" she mumbled, voice shaking with concern as she climbed through the jet to catch better sight of the elevator, wondering what she would possibly do if Chris, her all-mighty brother, wasn't showing up again.

What if she was completely alone in the world now?  _Thirty seconds to self-destruction._

Dear lord, it was too late. Chris wasn't coming back. Claire breathed shallowly, forcing down the sobs. Hadn't she had used up all her tears, she would have cried again as she realized that Chris' absence meant that there was only one Redfield who still had a chance to survive. Trembling fingers reached for the backrest in front of her and she slowly proceeded to climb into the front seat, where a very important question invaded her thoughts.

Did she even want to live on if Chris wasn't there with her?

She swallowed. There was still time to swallow, wasn't there?

Living or dying? It was such a hard choice to make when you just lost everything you had left in the whole world. Her look sank onto the instrument panel in front of her, and the question of which of the switches and levers started the engine began to throb in her temple in the shape of a stinging pain.

Living or dying? There was no need to make a choice anymore as her incapacity to pilot a motherfucking fighter jet was already getting her killed.

How had Steve known how to fly the plane that had brought them to Antarctica? Was there some piloting crash-course for those who defied Umbrella and, if so, why hadn't she known about it? Close to accepting her fate, running back into the facilities and searching for Chris to, at least, die next to her brother, Claire yelped shock as a loud rumble shook the ground and everything on it. The next time she paid attention, the elevator doors had been burst open and Chris, impulsed by a wave of fire and rubble, leaped onto the jet.

Barely able to hold back a content shriek of excitement, Claire leaned over the seat.

"Chris!" she called, and sighed in relief when her brother lifted his thumb.

"Hey!" he exclaimed, smiling faintly. "You know that I always keep my promises."

Chris climbed into the cockpit and started the engine, lifting the metal bird into the air with no effort, right before the fire consumed the Antarctica base, and Claire once more felt that sting of need for him in her chest. He hadn't spoken a word after his first impetuous greeting, indicating that something else but the reunion with his sister was on his mind.

"Chris? Are you alright?" she asked in concern, letting her fingers dance over the strong shoulders of her brother until he hummed in response.

"Yeah," he said in a tired voice. "It's just been a very long way from Raccoon…"

Claire sighed and leaned back in her seat.

"Will you tell me what happened exactly?"

Her plea sounded extremely pitiful to herself, and Claire felt almost embarrassed for her petition to be part of whatever Chris had gone through. Before she could take it back, her brother grunted a bit.

"I will, Claire," he said. "When I find a way to tell you."

A sharp pain invaded her stomach when his words hit her. As she wondered if he had ever spoken to her like this, the thought that something was terribly wrong began to crawl up her body. Chris' voice was so full of shame and disappointment. What had happened during the battle with Wesker? What had he told him?

She gasped for air, as the small space in the cockpit didn't seem to have enough oxygen to offer. Had Wesker told him? Claire forced her breath to remain calm and deep as she assured herself that Wesker had no proof of what she had done. He had no proof and he was the one who'd fallen in disgrace Chris would believe his sister rather than his enemy, wouldn't he?

She would deny it. She would deny everything until the day either she or Chris would take their last breath.

"Chris," she gave his shoulder a loving touch from behind and perceived a low-degree turn of his head.

"Yes?"

"Promise me…" She swallowed, trying to hide the essence of self-consciousness in her words. "Promise me that you won't leave me alone again."

The plea had a desperate undertone in it, and Claire regretted not remaining composed. Chris sighed a little.

"I'm sorry, Claire," he responded, something unusually distressed lying in his voice. "But it's not over yet. There's still something we've got to do."

_Us?_

Chris lowered the jet too quickly in a dangerous circle and Claire became weightless for a second, nearly crashing against the canopy. A sweet sting of vertigo carved deeply and the sensation somehow seemed to precede her next, hurtful thought. Who was he referring to when he said  _we_? Was he even counting on her?

"You mean…"

Another sigh was sent out before he spoke again.

"Yeah," it was like he wasn't even speaking to her. "It's payback time. We've gotta destroy Umbrella. Like… now." He pulled the stick to recover some altitude. "Let's finish this once and for all."

* * *

The Australian observation base she and Steve had tried to reach was their first destination after escaping. An international team of researchers welcomed them with curious eyes and steaming coffee once they had overcome the initial distrust the two strangers invoked. Once Chris had given away that he was ex-Air Force, one huge man with shoulders as wide as a truck had laid his arm around him and they had started sharing stories about their common past. The siblings were offered the chance to rest, shower and wash their clothes before they would continue their journey back to civilization a couple of days later. Although, civilization was a bold term for the East-Canadian countryside where the Burtons lived.

Chris had been distant the whole fucking time. Whenever Claire asked him if he was alright, he'd just smirk widely and tell her that everything was okay, that he was just happy that his baby sister was back and that he wouldn't chide her for running after him so headlessly. She decided it wasn't the right time to fucking blame him for his own unwise choices, and kept silent instead.

After she'd asked for the twentieth time, he had confessed that Wesker was still alive. It was kind of a surprising disclosure, regarding how eager both Chris and his former Captain had been to make it their last encounter and fight until one of them was undoubtedly dead. Was that what Chris was so upset about, or was it something he could have found out while his sister was waiting for him in the fighter jet? Whatever it was, he didn't share his thoughts with Claire, but the redhead noticed that his attitude was becoming slightly more light-hearted over the days.

"Chris! Oh my god!"

Claire had expected anyone but Jill Valentine behind the opening door to the Burton residence. The brunette propelled herself into her brother's arms and caught even Chris off guard. The way his arms slowly approached her shoulder blades before they looped around her showed that he hadn't believed he would find her there. Their hug lasted a short while before Jill freed herself from his grip and gave Claire the same effusive welcoming gesture.

"I heard big things about you, Claire!" she yelled as she laid her arm around the redhead's shoulder. "Come in you two and tell us everything! Barry's waiting for you!"

It was obvious that Jill hadn't gotten away from Raccoon City unharmed. She tried to play down the tension while Chris and Claire greeted Kathy and the two Burton daughters, laughing along when they all made fun together, simply enjoying being alive, but as soon as she led the siblings into their makeshift operation base in the basement, she turned deadly serious.

"Fuck, Chris! We have been waiting for updates from you!" she hissed in a voice full of concern as she punched his shoulder in a friendly-upset manner.

The loud, growly laughter of Barry rolled through the basement floor as he approached them.

"That's right! Chris, you motherfucker! No news since that damn letter you sent in August! Also...  _Leaving all the hot babes to you_? You kidding me? You would have scared them off with that old, stinky uniform on. Have you even changed once since July?"

Barry pulled Chris into one of those manly hugs where their chests barely touched and they gave each other those vigorous pats on the back.

"Oh, fuck you, Burton!" Chris complained loudly. "Also, I sent you another update in October, guys! How could I know that Raccoon City was no more?"

Jill took up a small cardboard box and handed it to Chris.

"I collected your stuff from your hideout," she explained as Chris inspected the contents—just a few objects—with a warm look. It was nothing but a bloody knife, a few clothes and the picture of the Redfield family—the same Claire had always had on her nightstand, even those tragic times when her mother was so ashamed of her that her face was marred with an expression of hatred. Claire's gaze waved to Chris, who swallowed as he turned to face Jill.

"Thanks," he said as he flicked a thumb over the photograph before handing it to Claire with a soft smile. She accepted the frame without looking at it, afraid of how the face of her mother could judge her.

Jill shrugged a shoulder.

"I went to see you as soon as I escaped the city. Last minute," she explained, her face covered in sarcastic relief. "Hadn't Barry gotten Carlos and me out, we would have been bombed along with all the infected."

Both siblings went speechless for a while as they stared at Jill with a mix of incredulity and mistrust.

"Who's Carlos?" Chris grunted out the question. Claire, however, was drawn to a completely different piece of information.

"Bombed?"

Three pairs of eyes turned to her and Claire felt uncomfortably observed and judged. Jill was the first one to respond, giving the redhead a short nod.

"Raccoon City was bombed by the government," she explained, a sigh announcing the next shocking news. "The whole population was infected in September."

"She knows. She…" Before Claire could reply, Chris sniffed defiantly and grunted. "She was there."

Jill and Barry looked at her in disbelief.

"You were there? In Raccoon?" Jill asked in awe to the sound of Barry's whole-hearted laugh.

"I think we need to sit down and catch up."

* * *

"And then you decided to take a plane to France? All by yourself?" Rebecca, the cute little S.T.A.R.S. pixie, had been hiding in the corner of the basement when they'd arrived, engrossed in reading and deciphering some information one of Barry's informants had sent them. Now that Claire was telling her story, the young medic didn't stop staring at the redhead like she was an optical illusion. Admittedly, once Claire had recognized her as the girl in the photograph she'd found in Wesker's desk, she was inspecting her equally.

"That was very brave of you," Jill pointed out, admiration covering her face as her look waved to Chris. "Your brother must be so proud."

He wasn't. Her brother was pissed, she realized and her hands curled tightly around the cup of tea she was holding. Chris, whose coffee had long stopped steaming, bent forward, with his elbows propped by his knees and his fingers entwined as he sighed.

"Of course I am proud, but…" He looked at her with disconcert. "Fuck! I had no idea she was doing this until, one day, I got an email from a guy called Kennedy, who claimed to be a government agent and told me my sister was on some shitty island in the middle of the South Pacific…"

Chris' voice sounded regretful, judging and a little frightening, and Claire wasn't sure exactly what it meant. However, it wasn't the only detail that caught her by surprise.

"Government agent?" she mumbled at the revelation. Head-shaking, she began to stutter, "No. No, no. Leon is… was a police officer."

While Chris' glance adopted a pitiful touch, Jill leaned back in her chair.

"Leon Kennedy?" she asked interestedly. "So he's alive?"

They all turned to the brunette with interest.

"You know him?" It was Barry who asked.

The young woman just nodded with a smirk on her lips.

"He came to meet Marvin about a month before the outbreak." A nod reinforced her story. "A cute kid, eager to impress everyone and make friends. He was so flirty."

Chris' face went stony at the mention of  _cute Leon Kennedy_ , and the tension in the room became so thick it was hard to breathe something else than pure hatred.

"Did you meet in Raccoon?" Jill kept asking about Leon and Claire watched Chris' fury boiling in his veins.

Turning her attention back to Jill, the redhead nodded.

"Yes, he had been called back by Irons but…" she paused when the memory of Brian Irons and the orphanage came back to her. "By the way, Irons was some creepy old fucker. He's dead now."

A mischievous smirk popped onto Jill's lips as if she knew the old man didn't deserve any better. Barry and Rebecca even let out a grateful sigh. Only Chris kept quiet, taking a deep breath.

"Unlike Wesker."

The three remaining ex-S.T.A.R.S. members turned to him in shock.

"What did you say?"

"Are you sure?"

"Oh my god."

And Claire finally learned what had happened that fateful night of July in the Arklay Mountains, about Wesker's betrayal and about how Leon Kennedy had started working for the government and hadn't told her about it.

* * *

Moira had insisted that Claire sleep in her bed that night, and so she had to count the sleepless hours next to a quietly snoring little girl that kicked her shins every now and then. Both Rebecca and Polly slept in the same bedroom, each in their own bed, though.

Although Rebecca had seemed to be the most affected by the news about Wesker being alive, she had fallen asleep soon after the Burton kids and Claire couldn't help feeling abandoned in the bedroom where she was the only one whose mind wouldn't stop working. Umbrella's web was already widely-spread and their fight had just begun.

With the shadows of the night, equally dark thoughts of self-consciousness visited her. Claire felt little and unimportant, standing in the shadow of her older brother and his unexhausted will to fight the pharmaceutical company. Even Leon had, apparently, officially joined the fight against bioterrorism, working for the same people who had blown up Raccoon City after considering it a lost cause. She herself had been nothing but good intentions—when she'd tried to save Steve, when she'd run after Chris, even when she'd offered herself to Wesker—it had all been worth nothing. Steve was dead, Chris was tired of her and Wesker… she sighed. Wesker was still alive, there to remind her of her own stupid actions and to haunt her with his threats. She could still be of use, he had said, and Claire genuinely believed that he'd meant it. After another hour of turning, she climbed over Moira's little body and walked out of the bedroom, careful not to wake anyone.

Unsure of where she was even going, Claire let her feet carry her downstairs and into the kitchen. She was thirsty and a glass of water would certainly do her good. Before she could turn the lights on, though, she perceived a voice.

"I wonder what you're thinking."

It was Jill—no doubt. Claire stood and listened, until the expected reply came, spoken out by Chris.

"I don't even know anymore," he said and sighed.

Claire looked around. It sounded like they were right next to her, and she assumed that they were on the back porch. She carefully climbed onto the kitchen counter and spied through the window, finding both Chris and Jill leaned against the bannister, wrapped in thick coats and blankets. Their breath steamed out into the cold air in a dense, white mist. That was, whenever they weren't taking a drag from the cigarette they were sharing.

"Damn, this all… You were right Jill. You were right all the time." Chris' voice sounded so broken that it nearly tore her heart.

"What do you mean?" the brunette asked after exhaling a long stream of smoke.

Chris sighed again.

"Claire."

Claire's eyes ripped open in shock and she nearly lost balance due to a small misstep on the counter. What did he mean?

"How could I have known that my sister is this crazy? Fuck… nobody shall ever know about this."

Her vision went blurry when she realized that Chris was speaking about her secret feelings, and she suddenly saw all her nightmares from the past coming true. Tears started rolling down her cheeks mercilessly until they reached her chin and dropped onto the wide pajama shirt Kathy had lent her. Chris knew about her feelings for him, and he certainly be quick to make a choice and take action. Jill laughed on the terrace, placing a hand onto his shoulder.

"It's alright Chris," she told him, holding his hand like a trophy as though she  _knew_ Claire was watching them.

Maybe she did. Maybe Jill Valentine had known all the way about Claire's sick feelings for her brother. It was a nice move of her to warn him about her dark intentions. It proved that she cared.

Jill rubbed over his head in such a comforting way that it made Claire sick. With a soft laugh, she said, "I'm not really surprised, you know? You're everything she has left. She loves you."

Yes, she loved him. She loved him in a way that made Jill Valentine laugh, because the brunette certainly knew that Chris would never let his fucking sister touch him in the way  _she_ did. She wouldn't even get to rake through his hair the way Jill Valentine was doing it now. Wasn't it unfair? She had given everything to protect him, had stood Wesker's torture and despise, his every touch on her—for nothing, as she already knew. But even after the revelation that she had shaped her painful destiny with her own bare hands, there had always been the comforting certainty that Chris hadn't found out about her sick feelings.

Now, everything was lost for good.

Chris' fist impacted on the bannister and Claire thought she'd faint. What was she going to do now? She could just disappear again, move to Europe and start over—far from the judging glances of Jill and Rebecca. Far from Chris, too.

"I know, Jill. And I love her, too, but, fuck! She went to Europe, Jill. Fucking Europe! Alone!" Chris hissed and Claire stopped sobbing. "She could have died. You were right. I should have told her I was going."

Claire wiped her face with the long cotton sleeve of the pajama and waited for Jill to end her laughter. Europe? Were they just talking about how mindlessly she had risked her life to find him or was there something else?

"Let's be honest, Chris. She went to  _fucking Europe_ in search for you. Do you think she would have let you leave in the first place?"

The sigh that left his lips meant so much, Claire was barely able to keep herself on her feet. Chris knew how much she was willing to sacrifice for him because he would have done the same for her. Dying of need and love for him, she yelped a bit, covering her mouth quickly so her sobs wouldn't be audible to the two people on the terrace.

"That's another thing," she heard Chris say. "I have tried to tell her that I want to take down Umbrella and…" Claire stopped breathing to hear what her brother was about to give away. "I don't know how to make her stay back. I mean, she won't let me do this alone, will she?"

Jill didn't say anything, her silence confirming that he was right.

"Yeah," he said with another sigh. After a moment of silence, he grabbed her hand. "Also, Claire is not the only one I left behind."

Jill tilted her head softly.

"Chris…"

"I should have been there with you in Raccoon! I could have… Oh, fuck it!" As the pain and regret in his voice turned into a hiss full of determination, Chris grabbed her arm and pulled her into his embrace, pressing his mouth softly onto hers.

Jill gasped audibly as she seemed to come apart in Chris' arms and Claire stood still as she observed the two former coworkers kiss lovingly in the protective shadow of the snow clouds. The woman fisted both hands in his short hair and tilted his head to the left, in such a fortunate move that it allowed Claire a wide look at Chris' face when he mouthed a silent  _I love you_  between kisses, and she thought she'd die right where she stood. When their lips parted and their eyes met each other's, Chris thumbed lovingly over Jill's cheekbone.

"Jill Valentine," he gasped into her face. "Will you take down Umbrella with me?"

Claire stood in the weak beam of the light, with the shards of herself at her feet. Chris wanted to know his sister was safe, far away from the blood and gore, just like he wanted Jill to be alright, too. However, while he considered Jill strong enough to be with him in the frontline of the battle, he just thought of his sister as a burden in his quest to destroy Umbrella. Hands balled into fists, Claire felt anger rise in her bowels. Chris didn't want her to fight. Fine.

Turning on her heel, she climbed off the counter and walked back to the stairs that brought her to the upper floor. Perhaps Chris didn't know how broken she was, but neither did he know how strong and fearless she was.

The office door was ajar, and the light of the unattended computer flooded the corridor with a blue halo that attracted her magically. Instead of turning back into the bedroom, she chose the office door and entered the room resolutely, taking a seat in front of the computer and next to the picture of her family. The screen showed different maps and instructions. Chris must have been working on something when he and Jill had decided to have a smoke together.

Claire's view drifted to the family picture to her right, from which her mother was launching a dark glance at her. Mom was obviously mad, but so was Claire herself. She was mad at Chris, Wesker, at Umbrella and at Jill Valentine. She was mad at Alfred Ashford and Brian Irons and, ugh, William Birkin. But above all this, she was mad at herself, because she had acted all the way like a helpless little girl—and she knew exactly whom she wanted to pay for it.

Opening a new window in the browser, she logged into her webmail account.

_Leon,_

_I'm back._

_Why the fuck didn't you tell me that you're working for the government, you bastard?_

 


	15. Trial and Error

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the start of part 2 ;) Enjoy

The security procedures they had her endure every single time she came around were exhausting. X Ray scans, drug tests, interviews, and forms to fill out were regularly stealing more and more of Claire's time, but when you wanted to access a zone overseen by the National Security Advisor himself there was no such thing as  _too safe_. It was even harder when you were carrying a gift package, as the officers doubled their measures when you meant to leave any external objects in their facilities, and Claire somehow suspected that Derek Simmons was testing all new screenings and protocols on her. The last metal door was solemnly pushed open and Claire could finally enter the tiny interrogation room where Sherry was already waiting for her.

"Claire," the girl exclaimed excitedly, without moving from her seat. "I almost thought you weren't actually coming today."

Claire took a seat in front of her blonde friend and smiled comfortingly as she pulled out the package.

"I had to go through extra security because of this," she explained with a laugh and handed Sherry the gift box with the big pink ribbon tied around it. "Happy Birthday! I'm sorry I couldn't be here on Wednesday."

The young woman shook her head eagerly and began to pull on the strip to undo the delicately tied knot.

"It's okay, I know you are busy," she said as her slim fingers worked the box open. "Oh my god! Claire, this is so cute!"

The colorful stuffed parrot with widely spread wings seemed to expect her to give him a hug and Sherry's eyes filled with sparkling joy as she ran her fingertips along the feathers.

"You finally got me a parrot," she squealed, with tears in her eyes. "Thank you so much!"

Claire giggled sadly.

"It's from Leon and me," she said, propping up her chin on the back of her right hand as she watched Sherry caress softly over the wings. "Now the puppy we got you two years ago won't feel lonely anymore."

"It's never lonely. It has me," the blonde replied enthusiastically and broke Claire's heart. "Say thanks to Leon from me. I love it so much!"

The mood sank drastically at the mention of their common friend and government agent, and Claire knew that they were about to repeat an inexhaustible issue that always stood between them like a wall.

"How is he doing?"

Claire's hand reached for Sherry's and held it in a comforting grip. It was a common ritual of their every meeting, and one of the sadder moments they shared. Whenever their common friend Leon was brought up, Claire would automatically try her best to comfort the girl in her everlasting sorrow.

"He's alright, Sherry. Don't worry." Her voice was loaded with warmth and care. Sherry had always been their little girl, Leon's and her common life project, as he'd once dared call her when he'd had the dreadful idea to get wasted in some bar. "He's with USSTRATCOM. That's a very important job and he couldn't be happier."

That was a lie, of course. After surviving Raccoon City, Leon had been forced to take the job for the government in exchange for Sherry's safety, but they hadn't let him see the girl since then. Although saddened about the situation, and not entirely happy with the job he had been given, he knew through Claire's regular updates that the girl was safe, and it was all he asked for.

As for Claire, she had made Sherry's wellbeing her personal life goal even before graduating from college. It had taken her more than a couple of nice application letters and a hundred phone calls to persuade Simmons of the importance of social contact and friends for a young woman and to let Claire visit her every now and then. Over the years, every now and then had become every Saturday, plus holidays and...

"You know, Sherry, there's a reason why I couldn't be here for your b-day."

Two enormous blue eyes shot up and glanced curiously at her.

"What reason?" A hint of fear lay in her tiny voice when she asked, fearing that something terrible had happened to her friend.

Claire lifted her hands as a sign for Sherry to relax as she said, "It's okay. It's all good. I just started a new job."

And the light returned to the blonde's face as her pinkish lips widened into a bright smile.

"Oh, Claire, that's fantastic," she yelled happily. "I would hug you if those suckers let me!"

Claire, wondering if it was her own vocabulary that had fucked the girl up that much, launched a chiding expression at her friend. Fingers crossed upon the table, she sighed.

"It's in New York City!" she continued and saw grief blossom on Sherry's face again. "But don't worry. I will still be coming every Saturday, okay?"

"But New York is so far away…"

Claire laughed, with a shrug of her shoulders.

"It's just a two-hour flight from here. I can manage that once a week."

Sherry seemed reluctant to believe her friend would come every Saturday, and Claire knew that she changed the subject only to avoid being given a promise the redhead wouldn't be able to keep.

"So, are you starting a job in your brother's organization?" she asked quickly. "What was it called again?"

"Bioterrorism Security Assessment Alliance!" Claire said in a soft shout before she muttered, "Which sounds better than  _B.O.W. Busters_ , how I had expected him to name it."

They laughed until they ran out of breath and Claire wiped off a tear on her sleeve.

"No, he still doesn't let me participate." Claire huffed out a sad laugh. The thought of the counterterrorism club Chris, Jill and some other dudes had put up together still hurt her deeply, as it had been the issue the Redfield siblings had disputed the most loudly in their whole life. Chris had won the argument every single time his sister had brought up the subject, silencing her with a plain _'I said no, Claire'_  whenever their fight was dragged out too long. Luckily, Claire had found a way to join their fight without actually standing close to the dangerous front line.

"It's an NGO called Terra Save," she explained proudly. "They started out being just a bunch of hippies who wanted to make a change, but they're growing quickly. Last week they dismantled a tiny lab that was producing bioweapons and they want to set up active help in danger zones."

Which was enough reason for Chris to oppose her new job plans—unsuccessfully, this time, as Claire had already made a choice and there was no one in Terra Save who wasn't absolutely excited to have her with them. Sherry listened to her with interest, as Claire's stories were the only contact with the outside of her cell in the lab.

"That's cool, Claire," she commented. "I'm sure you're gonna be of use to them!"

_Sherry was taken care of, but the government facilities were far from being a home for a young girl. However, Simmons treated her right, which was rather unexpected because that guy is a total creep. He was always acting like he was doing us a favor, when it was Sherry who was doing a favor to the government. I thought she was fine there. She never mentioned anything regarding the experiments and I never saw the wounds that would have unveiled their dark plans, but, of course, I didn't know back then what terrific superpowers her G infection had given her. I heard Rebecca was brought to join the team of researchers at some point, so I really believed Sherry was in good hands._

_I know we all hoped they would give her some more freedom after her eighteenth birthday. She was a grownup now and she legally didn't need a guardian anymore, but Wesker still being alive was always the perfect excuse for them to keep her captive, as for her own safety._

_I guess some things will change, now that they don't have an excuse anymore._

"I will do my best."

* * *

Adam had texted her before she'd gotten onto the plane, and when she landed in New York he was awaiting her with widely-spread arms. Claire truly liked Adam Walsh. He was young and funny, smart and handsome. Recently incorporated to the Accounting Department, he had been on the same guided tour through the Terra Save headquarters Claire had attended, and they'd gotten along awesomely since their first greeting.

It was a shame that he was so lousy in bed.

"Do you like this?" he asked a little breathlessly as he rocked his hips forth.

Claire nodded, forcing out a soft moan through widened lips. Someone among the secretaries had mentioned how  _huge_ he was long before she had gotten the chance to taste him—and the rumors had resulted to be truthful. She just wished he knew what to do with that immense tool he had been gifted with.

Letting no one less than Albert Wesker become her first one had turned out to be more of a burden than she had expected in the first place, as nobody had ever been comparable to the forbidden pleasure the evil Captain had given her. Though resulting torturous and embarrassing at first, the lessons the blond had taught her secretly had turned out to be the most pleasing experience she'd ever been lucky to have, and every time she had dug for satisfaction between the sheets of someone else, she had only found frustration. Admittedly, she had been digging only a couple of times in six years. Maybe she'd just had back luck.

Adam leaned down and kissed her softly on the mouth as his right hand pushed under her knee and lifted her leg. The new angle felt a little better than before, it stung deeper and even hurt a bit—in a pleasant way—but it was far from making her enjoy the act. It wasn't about angles or depth. It was about how their energies and  _chakras_ didn't quite combine, and because Adam was trying to make love to her when she didn't want him to  _love_ her. She wanted him to fuck her mindless, to use and waste her and never even mention something related to  _feelings_.

"Oh, yes," she began to squeal as the young man drove into her once more.

It was best for both of them if they didn't prolong this unnecessarily, and Claire liked Adam enough to spare his feelings from the hurtful truth. Reaching for the headboard, she curled her fingers around the metal bars and arched her back, forcing out his name with the voice of someone who was actually having an orgasm. When she opened her eyes again and caught sight of the proud smile on the man's face, she knew she had made the right choice. Now everything she had to do was to tell him delicately that there would be no next time.

Sincerity was the base of every relationship.

* * *

The complete apartment was filled with thick smoke when she returned home that night, causing her to cough loudly as soon as she opened the door.

"Chris!" she called into the corridor.

The mess had its origin in the kitchen, as she had expected. She found Chris heavily coughing in front of the stove, holding a frying pan with little pieces of coal that looked like they had once been living. Claire quickly ran to open all the windows on the floor and came back laughing into the kitchen.

"This is not how you smoke meat," she said and took the pan from his hands. It seemed to be the only object that had taken major damage through Chris' cooking attempts, although it would take her some time to free the textiles of the place from the stench. Chris somehow looked like a drenched puppy when he stared at their burnt dinner.

"I got a call," he muttered frustratedly and turned to face her. "I'm sorry."

Claire lovingly thumbed over his cheek before placing a kiss onto it. Two nights of mutual silence followed by a burnt piece of meat and forgotten was the last fight they'd had about her new job at Terra Save.

They ordered pizza, sat on the couch covered with blankets to protect themselves from the cold breeze that blew through the open windows and watched a horrible action movie in which Steven Seagal or one of his kind began to punch everyone around him.

"I could do better!" Chris yelled at the screen in excitement. "They should hire  _me_ for their lame action scenes and I would make it look so much cooler."

Claire was currently chewing on her pizza slice when her brother nearly caused her to cough up.

"He's punching a fucking boulder Chris! Is there any way this would  _not_  look simply ridiculous?"

"I swear I could make it look better than he does!"

Chris seemed to have a great time and Claire wondered when she had last seen her brother that jaunty. After getting back from Canada with his sister, Jill and Rebecca, Chris had been working nonstop, travelling and continuing his research on Umbrella, but it wasn't until he had met a guy named O'Brian that he actually achieved something with his doing. Clive O'Brian had contacts all over the world and, having lost dear people to bioterrorism, he was excited to help Chris and Jill with the founding of the B.S.A.A.

But that was just the beginning of their struggles. Although O'Brian and his friends had helped with funding and well-developed organizational ideas, it was still hard for a couple of  _ex-cops who had casually survived an outbreak or two_  to be heard by governments and bigger companies and Chris and Jill had to use all their dialectical talents to persuade different decision-makers. In Chris' case, the lack of such dialectical talent had historically been recouped by brute force, and the fact that he couldn't just freely punch everyone's face had frustrated him.

Chris' phone rang for the third time that evening and, as the previous times, he cut the call without taking it. This time, though, Claire could catch a glimpse at the name of the caller.

"Who is Richardson?" she asked curiously and saw Chris slide his tongue over his upper teeth.

"An idiot. No one you have to worry about," he replied and grabbed another slice of pizza, hurrying so as not to lose half of the cheese that threatened with sliding off the dough. "He's a journalist who once worked for the Raccoon Times."

Claire listened carefully to her brother's tale.

"What does he want?" she asked, her look stern on her brother's face.

Chris grunted, shrugging his shoulders as an irritated frown covered his face.

"A story, I assume," he said and leaned back into the couch. "He was one of the first people I told about the Arklay Mountains when we survived the mansion in 1998. He didn't want to know anything about it. I should have contacted Ben Bertolucci back then. Maybe we could have actually achieved something to save the city."

Claire blinked curiously. She had heard stories about the brave Ben Bertolucci who had been put into a cell in the basement of the Police Station by no one less than Brian Irons, being killed by trenchcoat guy or by William Birkin—depending on how drunk Leon was when he told the story.

Chris sighed.

"Richardson was just a lazy ass who didn't want to take too many risks. He was lucky to be on vacation when the outbreak took place, so I contacted him again when we came back from Antarctica, because he could have been really helpful in our task to bring down Umbrella."

Chris finished his slice of pizza in silence and leaned forward to grab a cigarette.

"He never wanted to know anything about me," he explained, exhaling the smoke. "But now that Umbrella is no more, he wants to collaborate. What a surprise! He's now a self-proclaimed  _expert_ in bioterror."

_Oh, right, I forgot to mention. By then, Umbrella had been taken down already, but other corporations and terror groups had been quick to replace the pharmaceutical company on the frontline of bioterror._

Claire frowned at his comment. Richardson seemed to be one of those parasites who stained the already poor image of the journalists with a degrading attitude and disinterest. Poor Chris. He had struggled so hard with all this shit. Claire wrung her hand into his palm and leaned into him, gladly inhaling the smoke her brother blew out.

"What are you gonna do? Will you ignore him forever?"

Chris huffed.

"I'll let Jill handle him," he said and took another drag. "She looks so much harder than me, but when he gets too noisy, she'll be less likely to punch his face."

Claire sighed. After all he had been through, Chris deserved to punch someone's face someday. Her head dropped against his shoulder, comforting him before bringing up a subject she knew would inevitably hurt him.

"How is Jill doing?"

Chris blew out a laugh along with the smoke of his last drag and tossed the cigarette into the ashtray.

"She's okay," he said as he leaned back again and laid his arm around his sister. "We have been working a lot lately and it's tiring."

Claire blinked, softly nuzzling his shoulder. She knew that Chris and Jill had been trying to establish some sort of relationship over the years, failing miserably and wearing out their  _friendship_ more and more. Seeing how easily Jill found distraction elsewhere, Chris had pretended he could do the same, and he had substituted her with females as arousing as Violet, Emily and Sandra, but neither of them had ever become more than just a temporary issue and if Claire ever asked about them Chris had already lost track of them.

"Are you still seeing Monica?"

"No."

Claire smirked, as she knew how her dear brother was currently feeling like. To Chris Redfield, there would never be anyone else but Jill Valentine, and nobody could ever compare to the brunette that had stolen his soul and wouldn't give it back. She herself had felt the same way for the longest of times—about  _him_.

"Thanks for taking me in," Claire whispered and rubbed her cheek against his shoulder, giving Chris the chance to kiss her hair lovingly. There had been a time when being that close to him would have caused horrible thoughts to come to her, thoughts full of lust, desire, and other things that a woman should never feel towards her brother, and it had made her commit horrible mistakes in the past. Luckily, the years they had spent away from each other had helped her overcome that desire and understand that she'd just been dealing with the trauma of losing their parents.

"Please, I can't let my baby sister sleep in a shady hotel while she's looking for an apartment," he mumbled as his fingers softly caressed her upper arm. "I'm sorry for everything I said about your new job. I know it's hard to stand back when you see so much shit going on. And I'm proud of you, Claire."

Those words warmed her heart. She had never needed Chris to say out loud how proud he was of his little sister, but it still felt good to hear it.

"Thanks, Chris. I'm proud of you too."

He nodded, smiling widely.

"And I'm happy you're here," he mouthed against her hair and made her giggle. Yes, she was happy, too.

It was the first time they lived together since their time before Raccoon City. She had stayed at his place for one might, maybe two in the past, but he had always been working when she'd come for a visit. That night was the first one they could actually spend some quality time together.

"How is the search going, by the way?"

Claire chuckled sadly. Of course, the fact that he had offered her his bed while he crashed on the couch wasn't a condition to stand indefinitely.

"Not that good," she said with a shrug. "I'm sorry. It's all pretty expensive, and if I intend to see Sherry once a week, there won't be much of my income left for living expenses."

Her comment made Chris laugh.

"It's okay" he said and leaned forward to grab another slice of pizza, caringly offering her a bite. "I actually wish you could stay around forever. Maybe we should search for an apartment for the both of us."

Something about his comment made her heart jump so hard that the bit of food she was currently chewing nearly got down her windpipe. Living with Chris like back when she'd been a teenager suddenly filled her chest with a warm sensation of joy and nostalgia, as there had never been any other place where she'd felt home.

"But that will only go well until you want to bring a guy home," he added, laughing more loudly now. "I mean, I can stay out longer to give you some privacy, but I wouldn't like to have to sleep on a bench in the park so your lover won't run away-" he paused and pulled up his sleeve, tensing his biceps theatrically. "When your strong older brother shows up."

The sadness about his words rushed so deep that she could only manage to roll her eyes instead of laughing at his feigned cocky comment, and she punched his upper arm a little too hard for anyone to consider it friendly. Chris assuming she could be happy—or comfortable—with any other man but him, was devastating.

"Oh shut up!" she yelled. "You should know that I would only choose brave men who don't fear you."

"I hope so!"

Her brother laughed and slung his arms around her, making her heart race so wildly in her chest that she feared she would faint. They hadn't been that close to each other since Antarctica—or Canada, maybe—and, sometimes, a tiny part of her had believed that she had slowly gotten over him.

"I'm really happy you're here, Claire."

How foolish she had been all this time, ignoring the obvious signs that yelled at her that she couldn't run from her feelings. The fact that there was no other man who could ever make her feel complete, that she couldn't open up to a nice man like Adam, rejecting his love, only prove how tightly her heart was still held by the hands of Chris, the man who had the exclusive right to love her.

Yes, Chris could treat her as lovingly as he wanted, he could make it soft and slow, under the blanket with the lights turned off and in silence and even so, she would enjoy it.

She knew perfectly well that Chris wasn't the kind who did it in silence, having heard Jill and him often enough to  _know_ that he liked it loud, noisy and with the lights on. He loved it when Jill cried his name as much as he loved to groan hers when he came. No moan remained unreleased when Chris Redfield fucked you—so unlike Adam.

The mere thought of it caught her unprepared and the arousal flushed her cheeks with a hot rush of blood she couldn't play down. When the inside of Chris' arm brushed her breast accidentally, she felt the heat between her thighs rise to a dangerous limit. She shifted uncomfortably under him and her brother looked up, soon catching her chin in two fingers as he inspected her closely, his face marred with concern.

"Are you okay? You look like you have a fever."

Her eyes widened at his words. Fever? The only reason she was currently feverish was Chris and his closeness, and the revelation that those feelings she had believed to be dead were still very alive in her inners made her feel more uncomfortable than having to fake an orgasm when she was with her coworker.

"Are you sure?" she muttered as she watched how Chris jumped to his feet. A second after, the window was closed and he was ripping open cabinets and drawers in search for medicine.

"It's either that or you're in love with me!" he exclaimed jokingly as he tossed the boxes with almost complete blisters away. "Shit, these are all expired."

Claire ignored the comment about her being in love with him with brave serenity and rolled off the couch, her hand pressed onto her forehead.

"Maybe you're right," she said and closed her eyes. "I'm sure it's just because I worked too much these days. I'll go to bed and tomorrow I'll be at my fullest again."

Chris turned back to face her with a concerned but warm smile.

"Okay," he replied, nodding and stretched his arms out to point at the surroundings. "You go to bed. I will take care of this mess."

The urge to disappear from Chris's sight was too strong and Claire gladly obeyed, turning on her heel after mouthing a soft  _good night and sleep well_ and dashing into Chris' bedroom. Once the door was shut, she pressed her back against it and hid her face in her hands.

Why did she have to be like this?

* * *

It was one of those sleepless nights, loaded with embarrassing thoughts that came back to her like a boomerang as soon as she managed to toss them away, and when Chris had long turned off the lights in the living room, Claire was still lying wide awake. All hopes that her destructive feelings for her brother had died over the years had vanished now, as the signs her body was sending her were too obvious to be ignored.

She was still in love with him.

"Fuck," she hissed as tears shot into her eyes, mercilessly rolling down her temples and onto the pillow whenever she blinked.

The buzzing of her phone interrupted her musings of self-pity and desperation and Claire grabbed the device quickly and hid it under the covers, afraid that another incoming message might ring Chris awake—or the neighbor's dog, which would have had even more dreadful consequences. Listening closely to any outside tremor, she soon concluded that her brother was still sleeping, cradled in his own respiratory noises, and that it was safe to risk a glance at her phone screen. She'd gotten a message from Leon.

_Awake?_

Wiping off her tears, Claire began to type her affirmative response into the device. She had been waiting for a message or a call from him all day long, as they always spoke Saturday night after her visit to Sherry—that was, when he was currently off duty, of course. Claire pressed the phone against her chest and waited for the call to come in, even surprised by how fast he was that night.

"Hey you," she whispered, a happy smirk distorting her voice into a cheerful greeting. "How are you?"

Leon chuckled, but the deep sigh he sent through the line just a second after was enough for Claire to know that something was bothering him.

"Leon, what's wrong?"

"I'm alright," he said. "Sorry for the late call, but I was caught in a briefing. You see Sherry today?"

She breathed shallowly, afraid to miss any detail in his voice that would give away more information about his well-being if the sound was too loud.

"Yes, she loved the gifts and says thanks."

"That's great," he replied with a soft laugh—followed, again, by a sigh. "Listen Claire, I won't be available for the next two weeks, okay?"

She blinked the astonishment off and sat up, back straight as she listened to his tale.

"That long? Is everything okay?" She asked for professional reasons, too, as any bigger mission Leon might get sent on would probably mean more work for Terra Save's new Operations Department, in charge of the strategic building of survivor camps.

"Yeah, well," Leon replied, a hint of something unfamiliar in his voice. It wasn't until he spoke the last words that Claire realized it was fear. "I can't say much about it."

He was afraid.

He was as afraid as the young cop she had encountered one rainy night in a town called Raccoon City, when they'd stumbled into a nightmare with the best of intentions and a determination that had welded them together in one single night. It was a bond never bound to break, and as the other side of that eternal coin forged during a nightmare, Claire knew that, despite not being able to say much about it, he wanted to speak about it—desperately.

"You will do great," she whispered into the line in an attempt to give him hope.

All she got from him was another sigh.

"I will try, Claire." He cleared his throat, as if the next piece of information had gotten stuck in his throat—or as if it was trying to tear it open, as the words sounded gurgled out. "If anything happens to me, don't let them make Sherry think it was her fault, okay?"

The rising chest she felt under her palm was the one sign that gave away that she was still breathing. Leon's words had hit a very special and hurtful spot in her, stinging into the deepest of her inners like a well-sharpened lance.

"Don't say that, Leon. You have been trained for anything! Nothing will ever happen to you."

Of course he would come back. Leon had the expertise and training to fearlessly step into any battle, and he had the spirit to get out of it victoriously, with scratches and broken ribs, but alive. He was a survivor of Raccoon City, a superhuman built through government training and, after all, still a very humble man— the kind of guys meant to write history. Claire knew he would come back because there was no other possible outcome, but fear, as every other feeling, wasn't always rational, and she found herself shivering restlessly to the beat of her hammering heart.

"Just promise me…" he began to plead.

"You will come back."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to know more about how Rebecca ended up in the team that worked with Sherry, we invite you to read Corpasite's work Fractured Promises :D


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